Updated 12/01/19, next update: 01/26/20
Section 1
Vua had been taught that the emptiness between the planets was filled with light. Anywhere in the universe, no matter how devoid of people, ships, planets, or stars, one could always follow the glow of a distant star. One could always see their hand held before their face from the light that poured in from the stars that filled the galaxy.
It was a metaphor Vua had often heard for the practitioners of the Planar Arts. The Veil of Sfar ran through everything, but you couldn't see it until you picked up something that made it visible. Much like the oxygen on the terraformed worlds of the T-system, or the light of day, it was always there for people to take for granted.
Everywhere, practitioners of the planar arts had different names for themselves, different practices, and different methods of performing the spells and rituals. Some even had different theories they passed on and wildly different philosophies on which the principles of the practice were based. Vua had heard of communities that completely shunned the use of words, claiming them an impure part of the process. Others had been rumored to use more words than materials. Yet, all seemed to agree on the same basic principle that the arts were predictable, philosophical, and in a sense scientific in their teachings.
The tiny points of light in the black fabric beyond the window stared back at her, reminding her of these thoughts as she sat, mesmerized by the nothing beyond the insulated glass, oblivious to the life happening right then, all around and in front of her. There was nothing interesting beyond the window. A thick soup of black reached Vua's eyes as she stared, not really seeing anything beyond the duplicated reflections of the lights, bounced back by the double-paned glass. Nothing moved outside the ship. Not so much as a twinkle came from the unfamiliar stars beyond as they stared back, unmoving.
Long ago Vua had lost the train of conversation. Though it seemed likely that things had been said requiring a response from her, the acceptable time for those responses had long passed along with Vua's concept of what had been said. Thus, instead of the warm, hearty conversation that could have been happening, the table had lapsed into an awkward silence, disturbed only by the bustling sounds of the others around them in the mess hall.
"So do you think he's gonna... ya know?"
Leela's eyes grew as she stared at her companion, awaiting an answer in vain. Larger than normal, each of the eight deep blue pools brimmed with curiosity that made them shine like the moons of Trispia on an eight moon night. If Vua had looked closely, she could have counted the lenses in each one, covered in patterns and lines like the craters that dotted Hukik, gleaming with the reflections of light off the icy nitrogen falls. Each of the eyes darted around, individually focusing and refocusing on different parts of the scene before her, catching the fluorescent lights of the mess hall on the ridges of the irises. Had Vua raised her head, she would have seen each of those eyes, most of them trained on Vua's hollowed face; she would have seen the intelligent consideration of Vua herself; perhaps some worry for the distance in Vua's gaze.
But Vua didn't look. Instead, she remained a statue commemorating the picture of unhealthiness: a sick looking woman; dark circles fell under eyes that stared into a mug of stinking liquid, partially obscured by stringy hair that had once been pulled back into a half-pony but now hung limp and free. The shallow lines on the young face looked deeper than ever, like cracks in the surface of one of the volcanic moons in the Anda system. Even her uniform had the look of use and abuse, hanging from skeletal shoulders in folds that nearly hid the patches that gave it legitimacy. Only the corner of the shield poked out, and below that, little more than the head of the caduceus.
But these details bothered neither of the women. Rather, the obvious dishevelment managed to be both concerning and normal, a fact that Leela's eyes could hardly have missed.
"Heavens, Vua, you look like hell."
The sickly one started slightly sitting back in her chair.
"Thanks."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you look...just..."
"Dreadful?"
Vua raised a thin eyebrow and Leela shifted awkwardly. Discomforted by the situation she'd walked into, three of Leela's eyes shifted away while the other five danced around Vua's face, measuring the extent of the damage that had been done.
There was little to find. Vua's gaze was as cold and empty as the ghost ships of Whix.
Immediately, Vua felt self-conscious at the discomfort she had brought her friend. There was little she could do now to relieve the tension she had brought to the table, but she searched for words for a moment in vain. Finding nothing, she stared back down into her cup, waiting for Leela to continue the conversation for her.
"Well, I mean, you don't look so… normal. You look tired. Did you sleep last night?" With marginally more confidence, Leela shifted again, leaning forward as she spoke.
"Yes."
"More than two hours?"
Finding no appropriate response, Vua decided it was better to shrug off the comment and went back to staring into the cup before her.
Sensing imminent failure in conversation on this topic, Leela waved a gelatinous hand in the air between them to wipe away the subject.
"Never mind. You didn't answer my question. Do you think Quasian will ask?"
Vua shrugged again, looking at one of the windows on the edge of the mess hall that suddenly seemed far more interesting than her first impression had suggested, though nothing had changed.
Outside, the stars were still there, suspended in the great black nothing like the fire fairies in the water on a Kienat night back home. Ythac's moon, Ulkra, had drifted out of view, continuing on its trajectory around the planet, leaving nothing behind to reflect the lights display streaming from somewhere on the other side of the ship to the surface of Ythac. Nothing remained but the dead darkness that soaked up the brightness of the combat like water on the parched earth of Istika.
All things considered, the view was particularly boring at present, with nothing of real interest to capture the attention of any of those present. And yet, it hoarded Vua's gaze like it hoarded the lights - almost completely.
"I hope not. Have you seen Giora?"
Vua mumbled the words, hardly considering each one as she added it to the sentence. The result left her in shock of her own abilities, and for a moment, she came back to the moment to congratulate herself on the convincing alertness of her words.
Leela took no notice, but upon hearing her companion's response set down her teacup and swallowed.
"I saw him yesterday. Why, has something happened?"
Vua shook her head.
"No. His roommate fell down the stairs doing an extrication from the Kitsa food supply deck. Somebody with a spontaneous lure tube rupture."
"Oh my goodness!"
Leela huddled some of her hands around her teacup as she spoke, tensing with worry.
"Is he okay?"
"The patient wasn't."
"And Giora's roommate?"
"I don't know."
"Oh. I see."
Both people stared off into the room for a moment. Ahead, Vua's eyes followed a man entering the mess hall with what looked to be an Urdic symbiote, draped onto his back like a lumpy article of clothing that nearly blended into the mans' green membrane. Perhaps a doctor or an engineer?
As Vua considered the man, Leela took another sip of tea before musing a little to herself as much as her friend.
"I suppose he must be alright because he was with the medical team. At least, that's what I would presume. There'd be no point in a portal tech being at an extrication without the med team, so he would have had help right away."
Leela was nodding to herself as she spoke, reassured by her own re-imagination of the event, but Vua only shrugged. She was still lost in her own thoughts about the complete stranger that by rights should hold no place in her thoughts.
"I guess."
"Well, I'll have to get a hold of him. I'll let you know what I find out. But what about you? Did you have a busy shift?"
Vua shook her head.
"Mostly concerns that people aren't sleeping enough - which they're not. Got a behavioral issue. Two colds."
She allowed herself to trail off, glancing at Leela for a reaction. The action was rewarded with a small smile.
"Not so interesting when ships aren't being shot down, is it?" Leela smiled slightly.
"I'm not getting on ships that are getting shot down. They can't make me."
"Oh, I don't know. You might get reassigned to cleaning crew if you do that. Or sent to the brig. Please don't get sent to the brig."
Vua sighed. "There's a lot of stupid people on this ship."
Leela tilted her teacup toward herself as she replied, "Well, I suppose there's no end to the trouble people will get themselves into. I don't know that I'd call them 'stupid,' per say... Maybe bored?"
Vua rolled her eyes and dragged her gaze back from wherever it had been wandering this time.
"Choking on food intended for another species is at least a little stupid."
Leela shrugged and glanced over her shoulder, the eyes on the end of the rows across her face narrowing a little as she discerned nothing of interest enough to occupy her friend's attention.
"Oh, I don't know. You can say that, but I distinctly remember you trying lictorus, and I tried that... what was it? Oh, mild curry! Yes, whatever that was it wasn't … the best, but I guess it must be good to you all."
Leela gestured a hand at Vua and several other humans seated at a table near the windows.
Vua leaned forward in her chair to hunch over the cup before her, only glancing briefly at Leela.
"Yeah, but you're half human. Us sharing food isn't so ridiculous."
"What species was the guy who choked?"
Vua shook her head.
"He was human, of course. My partner's patient. Tried to eat Uora to impress one of the engineers."
Leela pinched her face at the thought of the spiny Xytish bugs going down a soft human throat. "Don't the Xyt usually just drink the intestinal juice or something?"
"Yup."
"Did he make it?"
Vua shook her head, taking a sip from her cup.
"Shame," noted Leela. “But was the engineer impressed?”
Following her companion, Leela took another sip from her teacup.
Vua shrugged. “Definitely impressed he got it down.”
The mess hall was filling now as the other day shifts that had been staggered to end an hour after their own finished and filed in for their last meal of the day. The wave brought a wide variety of individuals, drafted from across the kingdom for the various ship functions. Each person displayed a variety of behaviors, ranging from friendly and overly chatty to brooding and twitching their tentacles, but all corresponded with patterns Vua had identified as the various forms of hangry. Vua recognized a group of Kitsa as they approached the ordering counter, and one waved a furry tentacle in her direction as he was handed a bucket of liquid to filter through.
Vua nodded briefly in their direction before taking another deep gulp of the drink before her.
The vile taste was oddly comforting. As the familiar gag attempted to block it from her throat, Vua mustered a frown and managed to keep it in with a successful swallow. The result was a pungent smell that wafted up from her gut, exiting her nose and leaving her with a hefty aftertaste reminiscent of mud.
Across the table, Vua's silent struggle had not passed under the radar.
"Still not a fan of coffee?"
Vua looked away from her companion's smile, suppressing the warm, foul feeling in her gut.
"No. Is anyone?"
"Maybe by the time we breach Cur'Nyara you'll have learned to like it."
Vua scoffed at the thought.
"It'll take more than two days."
"What if the siege takes more than two days?"
"Then the general sucks at planning. I've seen the amount of supplies in the cargo hold."
Leela smiled, but the look melted into genuine concern that tickled a dark corner of Vua's heart. The familiar look reminded Vua how lucky she was to have the friends she did, even though she was undeserving.
All eight eyes became soft as Leela placed a paddle-shaped hand over one of Vua's, sandwiching it between the warmth of mucus membrane and coffee cup.
"I've detained you long enough, and you look exhausted. Maybe you should get some rest. When's your next shift?"
Vua looked away for a moment in wonder at why Leela chose to hang out with such a cinder block of a person.
"0600.”
Leela's face blistered into a scowl that matched the harshness with which she shoved her friend's hand off the table.
"Good heavens, go to bed! What kind of monster arranged your schedule?"
Vua replied that the Med Captain had, which only provoked an agitated sound she had rarely heard but felt certain would have carried better within the oceans of Korac.
"Well, I don't want to hear that you were out of your room between now and 0500. Please take care of yourself, Vua."
This was answered with a shrug accompanied by a look of such indifference as to give Leela little assurance that her friend intended to do as had been requested. Nevertheless, Leela said no more on the topic as her friend quietly departed, weaving away to the busing station.
***
It was a metaphor Vua had often heard for the practitioners of the Planar Arts. The Veil of Sfar ran through everything, but you couldn't see it until you picked up something that made it visible. Much like the oxygen on the terraformed worlds of the T-system, or the light of day, it was always there for people to take for granted.
Everywhere, practitioners of the planar arts had different names for themselves, different practices, and different methods of performing the spells and rituals. Some even had different theories they passed on and wildly different philosophies on which the principles of the practice were based. Vua had heard of communities that completely shunned the use of words, claiming them an impure part of the process. Others had been rumored to use more words than materials. Yet, all seemed to agree on the same basic principle that the arts were predictable, philosophical, and in a sense scientific in their teachings.
The tiny points of light in the black fabric beyond the window stared back at her, reminding her of these thoughts as she sat, mesmerized by the nothing beyond the insulated glass, oblivious to the life happening right then, all around and in front of her. There was nothing interesting beyond the window. A thick soup of black reached Vua's eyes as she stared, not really seeing anything beyond the duplicated reflections of the lights, bounced back by the double-paned glass. Nothing moved outside the ship. Not so much as a twinkle came from the unfamiliar stars beyond as they stared back, unmoving.
Long ago Vua had lost the train of conversation. Though it seemed likely that things had been said requiring a response from her, the acceptable time for those responses had long passed along with Vua's concept of what had been said. Thus, instead of the warm, hearty conversation that could have been happening, the table had lapsed into an awkward silence, disturbed only by the bustling sounds of the others around them in the mess hall.
"So do you think he's gonna... ya know?"
Leela's eyes grew as she stared at her companion, awaiting an answer in vain. Larger than normal, each of the eight deep blue pools brimmed with curiosity that made them shine like the moons of Trispia on an eight moon night. If Vua had looked closely, she could have counted the lenses in each one, covered in patterns and lines like the craters that dotted Hukik, gleaming with the reflections of light off the icy nitrogen falls. Each of the eyes darted around, individually focusing and refocusing on different parts of the scene before her, catching the fluorescent lights of the mess hall on the ridges of the irises. Had Vua raised her head, she would have seen each of those eyes, most of them trained on Vua's hollowed face; she would have seen the intelligent consideration of Vua herself; perhaps some worry for the distance in Vua's gaze.
But Vua didn't look. Instead, she remained a statue commemorating the picture of unhealthiness: a sick looking woman; dark circles fell under eyes that stared into a mug of stinking liquid, partially obscured by stringy hair that had once been pulled back into a half-pony but now hung limp and free. The shallow lines on the young face looked deeper than ever, like cracks in the surface of one of the volcanic moons in the Anda system. Even her uniform had the look of use and abuse, hanging from skeletal shoulders in folds that nearly hid the patches that gave it legitimacy. Only the corner of the shield poked out, and below that, little more than the head of the caduceus.
But these details bothered neither of the women. Rather, the obvious dishevelment managed to be both concerning and normal, a fact that Leela's eyes could hardly have missed.
"Heavens, Vua, you look like hell."
The sickly one started slightly sitting back in her chair.
"Thanks."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you look...just..."
"Dreadful?"
Vua raised a thin eyebrow and Leela shifted awkwardly. Discomforted by the situation she'd walked into, three of Leela's eyes shifted away while the other five danced around Vua's face, measuring the extent of the damage that had been done.
There was little to find. Vua's gaze was as cold and empty as the ghost ships of Whix.
Immediately, Vua felt self-conscious at the discomfort she had brought her friend. There was little she could do now to relieve the tension she had brought to the table, but she searched for words for a moment in vain. Finding nothing, she stared back down into her cup, waiting for Leela to continue the conversation for her.
"Well, I mean, you don't look so… normal. You look tired. Did you sleep last night?" With marginally more confidence, Leela shifted again, leaning forward as she spoke.
"Yes."
"More than two hours?"
Finding no appropriate response, Vua decided it was better to shrug off the comment and went back to staring into the cup before her.
Sensing imminent failure in conversation on this topic, Leela waved a gelatinous hand in the air between them to wipe away the subject.
"Never mind. You didn't answer my question. Do you think Quasian will ask?"
Vua shrugged again, looking at one of the windows on the edge of the mess hall that suddenly seemed far more interesting than her first impression had suggested, though nothing had changed.
Outside, the stars were still there, suspended in the great black nothing like the fire fairies in the water on a Kienat night back home. Ythac's moon, Ulkra, had drifted out of view, continuing on its trajectory around the planet, leaving nothing behind to reflect the lights display streaming from somewhere on the other side of the ship to the surface of Ythac. Nothing remained but the dead darkness that soaked up the brightness of the combat like water on the parched earth of Istika.
All things considered, the view was particularly boring at present, with nothing of real interest to capture the attention of any of those present. And yet, it hoarded Vua's gaze like it hoarded the lights - almost completely.
"I hope not. Have you seen Giora?"
Vua mumbled the words, hardly considering each one as she added it to the sentence. The result left her in shock of her own abilities, and for a moment, she came back to the moment to congratulate herself on the convincing alertness of her words.
Leela took no notice, but upon hearing her companion's response set down her teacup and swallowed.
"I saw him yesterday. Why, has something happened?"
Vua shook her head.
"No. His roommate fell down the stairs doing an extrication from the Kitsa food supply deck. Somebody with a spontaneous lure tube rupture."
"Oh my goodness!"
Leela huddled some of her hands around her teacup as she spoke, tensing with worry.
"Is he okay?"
"The patient wasn't."
"And Giora's roommate?"
"I don't know."
"Oh. I see."
Both people stared off into the room for a moment. Ahead, Vua's eyes followed a man entering the mess hall with what looked to be an Urdic symbiote, draped onto his back like a lumpy article of clothing that nearly blended into the mans' green membrane. Perhaps a doctor or an engineer?
As Vua considered the man, Leela took another sip of tea before musing a little to herself as much as her friend.
"I suppose he must be alright because he was with the medical team. At least, that's what I would presume. There'd be no point in a portal tech being at an extrication without the med team, so he would have had help right away."
Leela was nodding to herself as she spoke, reassured by her own re-imagination of the event, but Vua only shrugged. She was still lost in her own thoughts about the complete stranger that by rights should hold no place in her thoughts.
"I guess."
"Well, I'll have to get a hold of him. I'll let you know what I find out. But what about you? Did you have a busy shift?"
Vua shook her head.
"Mostly concerns that people aren't sleeping enough - which they're not. Got a behavioral issue. Two colds."
She allowed herself to trail off, glancing at Leela for a reaction. The action was rewarded with a small smile.
"Not so interesting when ships aren't being shot down, is it?" Leela smiled slightly.
"I'm not getting on ships that are getting shot down. They can't make me."
"Oh, I don't know. You might get reassigned to cleaning crew if you do that. Or sent to the brig. Please don't get sent to the brig."
Vua sighed. "There's a lot of stupid people on this ship."
Leela tilted her teacup toward herself as she replied, "Well, I suppose there's no end to the trouble people will get themselves into. I don't know that I'd call them 'stupid,' per say... Maybe bored?"
Vua rolled her eyes and dragged her gaze back from wherever it had been wandering this time.
"Choking on food intended for another species is at least a little stupid."
Leela shrugged and glanced over her shoulder, the eyes on the end of the rows across her face narrowing a little as she discerned nothing of interest enough to occupy her friend's attention.
"Oh, I don't know. You can say that, but I distinctly remember you trying lictorus, and I tried that... what was it? Oh, mild curry! Yes, whatever that was it wasn't … the best, but I guess it must be good to you all."
Leela gestured a hand at Vua and several other humans seated at a table near the windows.
Vua leaned forward in her chair to hunch over the cup before her, only glancing briefly at Leela.
"Yeah, but you're half human. Us sharing food isn't so ridiculous."
"What species was the guy who choked?"
Vua shook her head.
"He was human, of course. My partner's patient. Tried to eat Uora to impress one of the engineers."
Leela pinched her face at the thought of the spiny Xytish bugs going down a soft human throat. "Don't the Xyt usually just drink the intestinal juice or something?"
"Yup."
"Did he make it?"
Vua shook her head, taking a sip from her cup.
"Shame," noted Leela. “But was the engineer impressed?”
Following her companion, Leela took another sip from her teacup.
Vua shrugged. “Definitely impressed he got it down.”
The mess hall was filling now as the other day shifts that had been staggered to end an hour after their own finished and filed in for their last meal of the day. The wave brought a wide variety of individuals, drafted from across the kingdom for the various ship functions. Each person displayed a variety of behaviors, ranging from friendly and overly chatty to brooding and twitching their tentacles, but all corresponded with patterns Vua had identified as the various forms of hangry. Vua recognized a group of Kitsa as they approached the ordering counter, and one waved a furry tentacle in her direction as he was handed a bucket of liquid to filter through.
Vua nodded briefly in their direction before taking another deep gulp of the drink before her.
The vile taste was oddly comforting. As the familiar gag attempted to block it from her throat, Vua mustered a frown and managed to keep it in with a successful swallow. The result was a pungent smell that wafted up from her gut, exiting her nose and leaving her with a hefty aftertaste reminiscent of mud.
Across the table, Vua's silent struggle had not passed under the radar.
"Still not a fan of coffee?"
Vua looked away from her companion's smile, suppressing the warm, foul feeling in her gut.
"No. Is anyone?"
"Maybe by the time we breach Cur'Nyara you'll have learned to like it."
Vua scoffed at the thought.
"It'll take more than two days."
"What if the siege takes more than two days?"
"Then the general sucks at planning. I've seen the amount of supplies in the cargo hold."
Leela smiled, but the look melted into genuine concern that tickled a dark corner of Vua's heart. The familiar look reminded Vua how lucky she was to have the friends she did, even though she was undeserving.
All eight eyes became soft as Leela placed a paddle-shaped hand over one of Vua's, sandwiching it between the warmth of mucus membrane and coffee cup.
"I've detained you long enough, and you look exhausted. Maybe you should get some rest. When's your next shift?"
Vua looked away for a moment in wonder at why Leela chose to hang out with such a cinder block of a person.
"0600.”
Leela's face blistered into a scowl that matched the harshness with which she shoved her friend's hand off the table.
"Good heavens, go to bed! What kind of monster arranged your schedule?"
Vua replied that the Med Captain had, which only provoked an agitated sound she had rarely heard but felt certain would have carried better within the oceans of Korac.
"Well, I don't want to hear that you were out of your room between now and 0500. Please take care of yourself, Vua."
This was answered with a shrug accompanied by a look of such indifference as to give Leela little assurance that her friend intended to do as had been requested. Nevertheless, Leela said no more on the topic as her friend quietly departed, weaving away to the busing station.
***
Section 2
Within twenty minutes of departing the mess hall, Vua stood just outside the lift on the Agriculture deck, adjusting the straps on her auxiliary filter. Finding the normal human one missing, she had taken the bariatric filter and now struggled with the massive hinges on either side. Much too far back on her head for a natural fit, they were difficult to tighten, resulting in a series of grunting, fidgeting, and irritated sounds from Vua that ended in her ripping off the mask and tightening them in a more advantageous position.
Satisfied with her handiwork, Vua replaced the mask and released a breath she had been holding, breathing deeply. It now sat only slightly too wide on her face, covering most of her cheeks and chin along with her mouth and nose. Wrestled into the most useful fit she could manage, the succeeded in getting the top of the mask to sit below her brow line, leaving her a free line of sight. Her actions were accompanied by an immediate gag as the fumes from the chemicals and growth hormones that permeated the deck slipped through the plastic device to leave a foul reek in her nose and mouth. Though medically harmless, the odor was offensive enough to make her eyes water momentarily while her nasal passages adjusted to the burning sensation. The feeling was familiar - one she knew well from her many escapades to this particular part of the ship. The aroma that so ruined the deck for most of the crew had the indirect effect of creating a desirable, lonesome space where Vua could exist without the discomforts of social contact.
Almost at once when she had discovered the emptiness of the ag-deck, the chemical smell had ceased to grate on her nerves, instead seeming a blessing she could hardly refuse. While Vua could never fully enjoy the smell, she certainly wouldn't be one to complain of the isolation it provided her here among the plants. The ag-deck was her solitary place, often made peaceful by the absence of the gardeners and their tools. Though it was a disappointment that her own universal filter, the one implanted for breathing universal air when she was drafted to the med force, was deemed inadequate for the heavy chemicals of the ag-deck, the extra air filter was an insignificant discomfort when compared to the priceless alone time she had obtained by its use.
Stepping away from the lift, Vua made her way off into the deck, watching her step now and again for the tiny life underfoot, crawling its way over from the more alien environments in which Vua found often found herself lost.
Several Kitsan gnomes scuttled in front of her, taking refuge in a rosebush where their feelers poked out of the spiny branches to feel the air around Vua's movements. Several steps in front of them, a Toxari root had taken hold in the grates of the deck, tiny fruits hanging in abundance beneath a gaping mouth. It's leaves stretched skyward, displaying a wide array of colors and shapes that reached for the nearby branches of a low-hanging apple tree.
In all senses, the immediate climate was agreeable - somewhat akin to that with which she was familiar. The air was warm, moist, and clung to her skin in such a way that it prevented the sweat from evaporating from her body as she walked briskly along. The extra moisture pricked her pours beneath the warm fabric of her uniform, creating a sensation that felt vaguely irritating and confining, yet, the feeling was not unwelcome. It focused her mind as the details of her daily routine were carefully processed, each one turned over in her mind then immediately forgotten.
Despite the many upsets to her regular schedule, this was one part of her day that Vua could count on so long as she had off time. While she might lack sufficient sleep by her evening walks, this fact seemed hardly worth the annoyance of giving them up. By no means was this the first time she'd worked long hours. Back before she'd been forced to quit her life on Tsiro she had worked no less than twelve hour shifts for so long as it had been legal. Even before the draft, the villagers of Eliptee had made endless use of her unique skill sets. But as useful as she had been in a pinch, there were hours for her - a known time when she would rise and assist her mother in opening shop, and a known time when she would prefer not to be called upon. It was in those off times that Vua had been subject to the rigid schedule she herself created and from which she dared not stray.
The expectation of this personal time had given her the vigor she'd enjoyed before the draft, but now, here, years into service but not four days into a siege, it was as though all the life had been drained from her mind.
Vua looked about herself, but little of the information her eyes took in was committed to memory. Instead, her mind remained occupied by a parade of random, disconnected thoughts of the variety which one can only have after working long hours. Thus, nearly nothing of importance came to mind as she wandered aimlessly, killing time before the inevitable finale of the daily ritual.
As she passed through the Cracian biosect for the third time, however, Vua found that her thoughts had begun to drift continually in the direction of her bed and the fourth night of prayers that awaited her in quarters. This realization was unfortunate, however, as it brought her attention to the time. A glance at her watch revealed that a reminder she had set, splayed across the face of the watch where the little green numbers should have been. Though it was only 2045, a blessing by all accounts, the reminder was something to the tune of remembering the agreed on meeting with Helia Keel - a formidable associate. In fact, now that her memory seemed unfortunately restored, she recalled that this meeting had been a part of the reason Vua had come to the Ag-deck; a fact she had forgotten the moment she had stepped into the lift nearly forty minutes ago.
Set to begin not two minutes ago, the meeting was in the Trispian biosect - one Vua rarely frequented. It wasn't a lack of familiarity that kept her from it, but more a distaste for anything concerning the culture of the planet on which the Queen Lossif resided. To be sure, they were a fine people with brilliant traditions, many of which followed those of the human ancestors who had come nearly four hundred earth years past. The mere recounting of the centuries showed their dedication to their heritage, but it also highlighted the arrogant, self-importance that had permeated the attitudes of the Trispian traders Vua had encountered on Tsiro. Though they had followed the customs of the Tsirans in visits, they often did so with a particular disdain or with little interest. The actions were merely to placate those with whom they were trading and place them on equal footing with their rivals on whose home world they stood.
Vua considered these thoughts as she began to wander in the direction of the Trispian sector of the deck. Though they had little to do with the impending meeting, they secured her ever so slightly in her position several million light years from the troubles of Tsiro.
But the comforts of her mind were not to be enjoyed long. Not a minute after she set off in the direction of the Trispian sector, she found herself intercepted by the very person she was en route to meet.
As Vua noted the approach of a familiar shape, felt the usual tug in her gut - the one that had appeared the day she had her accident - and she pretended to check her watch, as if this were the real reason she was walking at so slow a pace. The charade did her no favors. Her watch only served to tell her her heart rate had gone up several beats per minute at the surprise of the unexpected rendezvous.
Keel was amused, a feeling she indicated in the chirping voice Vua recognized from Leela's own; it was full of the watery crooning of the Hrecken but without the soft timbre Leela had inherited from a human mother. The voice was much more harsh, painful on her mind, and the intruder's presence left her guts churning.
It was a familiar feeling she'd known as of two years ago; the gut-wrenching feeling of standing in the presence of someone in contact with the Veil had become a much more unpleasant, physical sensation since her incident. It made her stomach contract, like a child pulling away from a needle.
"Bold move, taking your time. Have you no appreciation for my acquaintence?"
Vua declined to answer. Instead, she cast her gaze to a gnarly looking organism; a long stem covered in alien black spines and a rough bark that bent and twisted with it as it swung its head around on the tall stem, facing her as though confronting her with the meaning of Keel's words. The thing had planted its roots in the soil of a pot, choking the life out of it's previous inhabitant. The dying plant was dropping its petals; a rosebush, it seemed, which brought Vua's attention to the fact that they had come to one of the more earthy domains of the deck.
"Well, I suppose I would keep my silence too, in your position. Have you given any thought to your debts? I'd still be happy to draw up a contract on behalf of the T-system collective if you would like to keep your rations. It would make my life much easier when I report back."
As Vua bent closer to the intruding plant, and it bent its bulbous head back to meet her, drawing close enough to tempt it into opening it's maw and revealing a set of dripping, needly jaws, ready for a snack. She smacked the head to the side. A lurking triac. Leela had described the thing with enough detail that there could be little doubt.
"How many points this time?"
Keel smiled at the declination, as though this were an entertaining parlor joke.
"I'll take a standard amount. How about 20 points?"
Vua scowled.
"Twenty points is -"
Vua's ComD buzzed. She glanced down hastily then continued.
"Twenty points is ridiculous. I'll give you fifteen, as per last time."
"Alright then. Eighteen."
"Fifteen."
"Getting all these things together for you in the middle a siege is no simple task. Seventeen."
"But you ask too much. Sixteen."
Keel sighed.
"And I've offered you a more reasonable deal, a more legal deal, but you refuse. Seventeen."
"Seventeen it is."
Helia Keel shook what served as a head with an almost mournful look.
"I do not pretend to know what you're playing, Vua, but you can't play forever. Consider the deal you've been offered."
"Give me the pearls."
The transaction was briefly interrupted by the passing of a gardener, trailed by several Kitsan gnomes, begging for treats. Though the man paid the pair of crew-mates little heed, previous acquaintance demanded the small nod exchanged between himself and Vua before he proceeded. As soon as he had vanished from sight, however, the momentary lapse in conversation was forgotten and Keel was holding a small, drawstring bag in a gelatinous hand.
Inspecting the contents, Vua was decided this was an appropriate time to accept and be appeased. This decided, she offered a promise of swift payment.
But it was not to be.
"Now or never," Keel demanded.
Vua sighed, pulling her ComD off her belt. Tapping on the icon to manage her ration points, she submitted the request, accompanied by a reasonable lie for the purpose.
Satisfied, Keel nodded.
"Wonderful. I'll take this for now. But in the future, you know there will be a great deal of paperwork for these sorts of... meetings. I would suggest that if you insist on continuing your requests for materials under difficult conditions, consider the contract. You would be putting in a minimal amount of work for whatever you require in return."
Vua didn't respond. Once again absorbed by the lurking traic beside her, she had ceased to give Keel any sort of acknowledgement. Instead, she questioned whether she ought to report the intruder. Though nutritious, triacs were nasty little things - aggressively invasive. Apparently they were out crawling the decks again, eating up the vitamins from other biosects.
Keel turned her own many eyes to the assortment of berry bushes, their blooms for the week touchingly innocent in light of their impending doom. But there was no acknowledgement of this fact in Keel's eyes. Not one of the many eyes held the drops of pity one should expect in such a situation. Rather, they understood the circumstance, recognized the disorder before them, and had calculated out a minimal disturbance to crew life.
Vua turned away as her ComD buzzed again, stuffing her hands into her pockets and refusing to acknowledge her messages in Keel's presence.
Contrary to her posture, however, she did emit a reminder that Keel had, in fact, been paid, underlying the unsaid suggestion that her presence was no longer necessary.
The cue was taken, albeit with several snide comments, and Keel departed, heading briskly in the direction of the lift.
With Helia gone, Vua found herself instinctively wandering back toward the lift. Though her progress was slowed by the threat of sharing the lift with such an unfriendly face, her lack of energy drove her down a more direct route, albeit at the slow stroll such as one reserves for an evening in the park.
Vua could feel the pull of her bed now as the weariness seeped back into her eyes and relaxed the muscles of her face. Sleep was like a dream in a far away place – a mythical idea of which she rarely had the pleasure. It propelled her feet as she wandered toward the lift, making heavy her legs at every step as they slowly remembered how long she'd been awake. The toe of her shoe caught on one of the metal planks as she moved, leaving her ears ringing with an alarming clank that was lost to the foliage around her.
As she steadied herself, her thoughts were pulled back to the present by yet another terrifying sound – another vibration of her ComD. Irritated by the constant buzzing interrupting her moment of precious solitude, Vua ripped the thing off her belt to view the messages, but before her eyes rested on the name, she knew their origin. A request for an update on the portal status meeting. The sheer un-originality of the memo made Vua's eyes roll, but at the same time, she found herself sending a response page, requesting the “portal status meeting” to be immediate. The time stamp read no later than 2130, leaving over eight hours until 0600; a reasonable amount of time for exercise before she allowed herself sleep.
Instead of an affirmative, however, her page was answered by an error message, reminding her of the limitations of the U.F.S. fleet budget. One more attempt to send the message ended in failure. Vua sighed, stepping up to the lift and hitting the call button.
When the arrival light dinged on, she clipped the ComD back on her belt and pulled the door open, tapping her finger over the button for the crew quarters on deck 3. As the thing shuddered to life, Vua sighed. She'd forgotten to put back the mask.
***
Satisfied with her handiwork, Vua replaced the mask and released a breath she had been holding, breathing deeply. It now sat only slightly too wide on her face, covering most of her cheeks and chin along with her mouth and nose. Wrestled into the most useful fit she could manage, the succeeded in getting the top of the mask to sit below her brow line, leaving her a free line of sight. Her actions were accompanied by an immediate gag as the fumes from the chemicals and growth hormones that permeated the deck slipped through the plastic device to leave a foul reek in her nose and mouth. Though medically harmless, the odor was offensive enough to make her eyes water momentarily while her nasal passages adjusted to the burning sensation. The feeling was familiar - one she knew well from her many escapades to this particular part of the ship. The aroma that so ruined the deck for most of the crew had the indirect effect of creating a desirable, lonesome space where Vua could exist without the discomforts of social contact.
Almost at once when she had discovered the emptiness of the ag-deck, the chemical smell had ceased to grate on her nerves, instead seeming a blessing she could hardly refuse. While Vua could never fully enjoy the smell, she certainly wouldn't be one to complain of the isolation it provided her here among the plants. The ag-deck was her solitary place, often made peaceful by the absence of the gardeners and their tools. Though it was a disappointment that her own universal filter, the one implanted for breathing universal air when she was drafted to the med force, was deemed inadequate for the heavy chemicals of the ag-deck, the extra air filter was an insignificant discomfort when compared to the priceless alone time she had obtained by its use.
Stepping away from the lift, Vua made her way off into the deck, watching her step now and again for the tiny life underfoot, crawling its way over from the more alien environments in which Vua found often found herself lost.
Several Kitsan gnomes scuttled in front of her, taking refuge in a rosebush where their feelers poked out of the spiny branches to feel the air around Vua's movements. Several steps in front of them, a Toxari root had taken hold in the grates of the deck, tiny fruits hanging in abundance beneath a gaping mouth. It's leaves stretched skyward, displaying a wide array of colors and shapes that reached for the nearby branches of a low-hanging apple tree.
In all senses, the immediate climate was agreeable - somewhat akin to that with which she was familiar. The air was warm, moist, and clung to her skin in such a way that it prevented the sweat from evaporating from her body as she walked briskly along. The extra moisture pricked her pours beneath the warm fabric of her uniform, creating a sensation that felt vaguely irritating and confining, yet, the feeling was not unwelcome. It focused her mind as the details of her daily routine were carefully processed, each one turned over in her mind then immediately forgotten.
Despite the many upsets to her regular schedule, this was one part of her day that Vua could count on so long as she had off time. While she might lack sufficient sleep by her evening walks, this fact seemed hardly worth the annoyance of giving them up. By no means was this the first time she'd worked long hours. Back before she'd been forced to quit her life on Tsiro she had worked no less than twelve hour shifts for so long as it had been legal. Even before the draft, the villagers of Eliptee had made endless use of her unique skill sets. But as useful as she had been in a pinch, there were hours for her - a known time when she would rise and assist her mother in opening shop, and a known time when she would prefer not to be called upon. It was in those off times that Vua had been subject to the rigid schedule she herself created and from which she dared not stray.
The expectation of this personal time had given her the vigor she'd enjoyed before the draft, but now, here, years into service but not four days into a siege, it was as though all the life had been drained from her mind.
Vua looked about herself, but little of the information her eyes took in was committed to memory. Instead, her mind remained occupied by a parade of random, disconnected thoughts of the variety which one can only have after working long hours. Thus, nearly nothing of importance came to mind as she wandered aimlessly, killing time before the inevitable finale of the daily ritual.
As she passed through the Cracian biosect for the third time, however, Vua found that her thoughts had begun to drift continually in the direction of her bed and the fourth night of prayers that awaited her in quarters. This realization was unfortunate, however, as it brought her attention to the time. A glance at her watch revealed that a reminder she had set, splayed across the face of the watch where the little green numbers should have been. Though it was only 2045, a blessing by all accounts, the reminder was something to the tune of remembering the agreed on meeting with Helia Keel - a formidable associate. In fact, now that her memory seemed unfortunately restored, she recalled that this meeting had been a part of the reason Vua had come to the Ag-deck; a fact she had forgotten the moment she had stepped into the lift nearly forty minutes ago.
Set to begin not two minutes ago, the meeting was in the Trispian biosect - one Vua rarely frequented. It wasn't a lack of familiarity that kept her from it, but more a distaste for anything concerning the culture of the planet on which the Queen Lossif resided. To be sure, they were a fine people with brilliant traditions, many of which followed those of the human ancestors who had come nearly four hundred earth years past. The mere recounting of the centuries showed their dedication to their heritage, but it also highlighted the arrogant, self-importance that had permeated the attitudes of the Trispian traders Vua had encountered on Tsiro. Though they had followed the customs of the Tsirans in visits, they often did so with a particular disdain or with little interest. The actions were merely to placate those with whom they were trading and place them on equal footing with their rivals on whose home world they stood.
Vua considered these thoughts as she began to wander in the direction of the Trispian sector of the deck. Though they had little to do with the impending meeting, they secured her ever so slightly in her position several million light years from the troubles of Tsiro.
But the comforts of her mind were not to be enjoyed long. Not a minute after she set off in the direction of the Trispian sector, she found herself intercepted by the very person she was en route to meet.
As Vua noted the approach of a familiar shape, felt the usual tug in her gut - the one that had appeared the day she had her accident - and she pretended to check her watch, as if this were the real reason she was walking at so slow a pace. The charade did her no favors. Her watch only served to tell her her heart rate had gone up several beats per minute at the surprise of the unexpected rendezvous.
Keel was amused, a feeling she indicated in the chirping voice Vua recognized from Leela's own; it was full of the watery crooning of the Hrecken but without the soft timbre Leela had inherited from a human mother. The voice was much more harsh, painful on her mind, and the intruder's presence left her guts churning.
It was a familiar feeling she'd known as of two years ago; the gut-wrenching feeling of standing in the presence of someone in contact with the Veil had become a much more unpleasant, physical sensation since her incident. It made her stomach contract, like a child pulling away from a needle.
"Bold move, taking your time. Have you no appreciation for my acquaintence?"
Vua declined to answer. Instead, she cast her gaze to a gnarly looking organism; a long stem covered in alien black spines and a rough bark that bent and twisted with it as it swung its head around on the tall stem, facing her as though confronting her with the meaning of Keel's words. The thing had planted its roots in the soil of a pot, choking the life out of it's previous inhabitant. The dying plant was dropping its petals; a rosebush, it seemed, which brought Vua's attention to the fact that they had come to one of the more earthy domains of the deck.
"Well, I suppose I would keep my silence too, in your position. Have you given any thought to your debts? I'd still be happy to draw up a contract on behalf of the T-system collective if you would like to keep your rations. It would make my life much easier when I report back."
As Vua bent closer to the intruding plant, and it bent its bulbous head back to meet her, drawing close enough to tempt it into opening it's maw and revealing a set of dripping, needly jaws, ready for a snack. She smacked the head to the side. A lurking triac. Leela had described the thing with enough detail that there could be little doubt.
"How many points this time?"
Keel smiled at the declination, as though this were an entertaining parlor joke.
"I'll take a standard amount. How about 20 points?"
Vua scowled.
"Twenty points is -"
Vua's ComD buzzed. She glanced down hastily then continued.
"Twenty points is ridiculous. I'll give you fifteen, as per last time."
"Alright then. Eighteen."
"Fifteen."
"Getting all these things together for you in the middle a siege is no simple task. Seventeen."
"But you ask too much. Sixteen."
Keel sighed.
"And I've offered you a more reasonable deal, a more legal deal, but you refuse. Seventeen."
"Seventeen it is."
Helia Keel shook what served as a head with an almost mournful look.
"I do not pretend to know what you're playing, Vua, but you can't play forever. Consider the deal you've been offered."
"Give me the pearls."
The transaction was briefly interrupted by the passing of a gardener, trailed by several Kitsan gnomes, begging for treats. Though the man paid the pair of crew-mates little heed, previous acquaintance demanded the small nod exchanged between himself and Vua before he proceeded. As soon as he had vanished from sight, however, the momentary lapse in conversation was forgotten and Keel was holding a small, drawstring bag in a gelatinous hand.
Inspecting the contents, Vua was decided this was an appropriate time to accept and be appeased. This decided, she offered a promise of swift payment.
But it was not to be.
"Now or never," Keel demanded.
Vua sighed, pulling her ComD off her belt. Tapping on the icon to manage her ration points, she submitted the request, accompanied by a reasonable lie for the purpose.
Satisfied, Keel nodded.
"Wonderful. I'll take this for now. But in the future, you know there will be a great deal of paperwork for these sorts of... meetings. I would suggest that if you insist on continuing your requests for materials under difficult conditions, consider the contract. You would be putting in a minimal amount of work for whatever you require in return."
Vua didn't respond. Once again absorbed by the lurking traic beside her, she had ceased to give Keel any sort of acknowledgement. Instead, she questioned whether she ought to report the intruder. Though nutritious, triacs were nasty little things - aggressively invasive. Apparently they were out crawling the decks again, eating up the vitamins from other biosects.
Keel turned her own many eyes to the assortment of berry bushes, their blooms for the week touchingly innocent in light of their impending doom. But there was no acknowledgement of this fact in Keel's eyes. Not one of the many eyes held the drops of pity one should expect in such a situation. Rather, they understood the circumstance, recognized the disorder before them, and had calculated out a minimal disturbance to crew life.
Vua turned away as her ComD buzzed again, stuffing her hands into her pockets and refusing to acknowledge her messages in Keel's presence.
Contrary to her posture, however, she did emit a reminder that Keel had, in fact, been paid, underlying the unsaid suggestion that her presence was no longer necessary.
The cue was taken, albeit with several snide comments, and Keel departed, heading briskly in the direction of the lift.
With Helia gone, Vua found herself instinctively wandering back toward the lift. Though her progress was slowed by the threat of sharing the lift with such an unfriendly face, her lack of energy drove her down a more direct route, albeit at the slow stroll such as one reserves for an evening in the park.
Vua could feel the pull of her bed now as the weariness seeped back into her eyes and relaxed the muscles of her face. Sleep was like a dream in a far away place – a mythical idea of which she rarely had the pleasure. It propelled her feet as she wandered toward the lift, making heavy her legs at every step as they slowly remembered how long she'd been awake. The toe of her shoe caught on one of the metal planks as she moved, leaving her ears ringing with an alarming clank that was lost to the foliage around her.
As she steadied herself, her thoughts were pulled back to the present by yet another terrifying sound – another vibration of her ComD. Irritated by the constant buzzing interrupting her moment of precious solitude, Vua ripped the thing off her belt to view the messages, but before her eyes rested on the name, she knew their origin. A request for an update on the portal status meeting. The sheer un-originality of the memo made Vua's eyes roll, but at the same time, she found herself sending a response page, requesting the “portal status meeting” to be immediate. The time stamp read no later than 2130, leaving over eight hours until 0600; a reasonable amount of time for exercise before she allowed herself sleep.
Instead of an affirmative, however, her page was answered by an error message, reminding her of the limitations of the U.F.S. fleet budget. One more attempt to send the message ended in failure. Vua sighed, stepping up to the lift and hitting the call button.
When the arrival light dinged on, she clipped the ComD back on her belt and pulled the door open, tapping her finger over the button for the crew quarters on deck 3. As the thing shuddered to life, Vua sighed. She'd forgotten to put back the mask.
***
section 3
As luck would have it, the failure of the ComD to send a message was hardly a hindrance to her evening plans. Within the ten minutes it took to reach the crew quarters, Vua still managed to re-submit the request to transfer 10 of her 23 remaining ration points to Helia after it failed to send, and within thirty minutes she found herself comfortably in a bed, hands folded loosely over her head and blankets pulled up to her chin as she panted in the chilly air.
Quasian sighed, rolling his head to the side to smile at her as one delicate finger scratched his neck.
“Well, I hope we got your stress out,” he mused, moving a hand to the mid-sized red mark welling on his shoulder. “I've always imagined myself tolerable. I didn't think I was annoying enough to invite that.”
Vua shrugged, keeping her eyes locked on the ceiling. “There's a lot.”
“I can imagine. Would I be foolish to invite you to share?”
Vua repeated her gesture. “No.”
“But you're not going to?”
She rolled her head to glance at him briefly with a quizzical look. “We're part of a siege.”
Quasian shrugged back, repositioning his shoulders on the pillows such that one rubbed Vua's ever so slightly. She didn't move.
“Yeah. Does that bother you?”
Vua glanced at him again, puckering her eyebrows for just a moment as she pondered his response.
“It doesn't bother you?”
The vague nodding of his head back and forth adequately answered her question, but he contradicted the motion with an, “Eh, not especially. It feels a little bit like work back home, ya know; just making sure people get where they need to go when they need to get there. Sometimes it's a bit of a puzzle but it's never too bad.”
“Huh.”
Vua shrugged.
“What's on your mind?”
His question hung in the air for a moment as Vua searched for a simple enough answer to pacify. It wasn't as though there were any single thing on her mind, but the time seemed unsuitable to dump her thoughts on him. As always.
“I guess that's it.”
“Just the siege?”
“Yeah.”
She glanced at him long enough to see the raised eyebrow, pulled high enough to disappear underneath a disheveled mop of blue hair.
“Are you bothered by the simple fact of being in a war zone?”
Vua shrugged, rolling away from his false apathy as she remembered a vibration from her ComD several minutes ago when she'd been too busy to answer. Tapping the screen several times, hard, revealed a memo from the Med Captain requesting a time change in her schedule. The time now, according to the lettering on the wall of Quasian's room, was after 2200 - seven hours from her new start time of 0500.
Vua let out a long breath, relaxing her right shoulder.
“What is it?”
Quasian wrapped his arms around her, peering over her shoulder at the darkness of the screen, interrupted by several lines of bright green text.
“My start time is 0500.”
“Oh, shit.”
He laid back on the bed.
“Well, you can't get eight hours of sleep now. I guess we better just stay up all night.”
Vua shook her head slightly as she pulled back the covers.
“I'll see you tomorrow.”
His eyebrows pulled together slightly and he reached up a hand to rub between her shoulders as she sat up. His hand was warm, moist from the sweat and rough in several spots from a run in with the tool box last week.
Feeling the scabs the lock had left him, Vua's mind went back to her conversation with Leela, just a few hours before.
Do you think he's gonna...?
Quasian smiled at her dreamily, then let go to lie back in bed.
“If it would be easier for you, you're always welcome to spend the night,” he added.
But she was shaking her head already.
“No, I think I'll need to be as close to my uniform and breakfast as possible.” She glanced around before adding, “But thanks.”
Vua stood, stretching widely and reveling in the release of her tight muscles. Though her thighs were sore, she managed to stabilize herself with her toes, rocking slightly to re-ground herself and relax her shoulders after the intensity of the last few minutes.
Quasian was watching her with a mix of emotions. With certainty, the goofy smile he'd been wearing when they met on the base at Yuh'At was still there, plastered across his face from the pleasure of the night, but it now blended with the worry that filled his eyes and the hollowed cheeks the weeks of launch prep had left him with. It was a lovable face, but Vua couldn't help but wonder if another would have appreciated it more.
He looked down at the blankets, stretching a little himself.
“Well, take care of yourself, Vua. I guess... I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow. Portal nine should be back up and working in the morning, but if it's not, maybe I'll see you even earlier.”
Vua nodded as she pulled on her shirt, then thought to add, “Oh, good. So you all fixed it after...?”
He shrugged.
“I mean, it was working again. 'Fixed' might be too strong of a word for now.”
“Oh. Well, good luck, I guess.”
“Um, yeah. Thanks.”
Pouring all her attention into pulling on her socks, Vua tried not to wonder if she shouldn't say more. It seemed as if Quasian was grasping at things to make the conversation drag on, but at the same time any words Vua came up with rattled in the emptiness of her mind a little too loudly for her liking. It felt equally unfair for her to make things up to continue talking as it did for her to leave. Besides, her own bed and the sweet solitude of her quarters were waiting for her on the other side of the crew quarters, all the way in section 7 of deck 3.
She glanced behind her to see Quasian bite his lip, but as she turned, he raised his eyes again to smile at her.
Unable to prevent the compassionate gesture, she smiled back, hoping that, if not her conversation, her expression could bring him some comfort in her affections.
The effect was unclear, however. Quasian always looked somewhere between dreamily pleased and confused, and the look in his eyes reflected nothing different.
Vua attempted to reflect on the ambiguity as she stood to leave, but her thoughts were interrupted when Quasian rolled onto his stomach, facing her.
“Vua, would you be interested in meeting for dinner in the mess hall tomorrow? It would be nice to find some real time to talk and unwind from all... this...”
There was concern behind his eyes as he spoke, as though this were the act upon which his sanity depended.
Instinctively, Vua nodded.
“Sure. When does your shift end?”
He puffed out his cheeks, looking at the ceiling.
“Assuming none of the other portals fail, 2145.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay. Take care.”
“Yeah. I will.”
Then, as she walked toward the door she paused.
“You take care too.”
A frown.
“Well, yeah.”
***
Quasian sighed, rolling his head to the side to smile at her as one delicate finger scratched his neck.
“Well, I hope we got your stress out,” he mused, moving a hand to the mid-sized red mark welling on his shoulder. “I've always imagined myself tolerable. I didn't think I was annoying enough to invite that.”
Vua shrugged, keeping her eyes locked on the ceiling. “There's a lot.”
“I can imagine. Would I be foolish to invite you to share?”
Vua repeated her gesture. “No.”
“But you're not going to?”
She rolled her head to glance at him briefly with a quizzical look. “We're part of a siege.”
Quasian shrugged back, repositioning his shoulders on the pillows such that one rubbed Vua's ever so slightly. She didn't move.
“Yeah. Does that bother you?”
Vua glanced at him again, puckering her eyebrows for just a moment as she pondered his response.
“It doesn't bother you?”
The vague nodding of his head back and forth adequately answered her question, but he contradicted the motion with an, “Eh, not especially. It feels a little bit like work back home, ya know; just making sure people get where they need to go when they need to get there. Sometimes it's a bit of a puzzle but it's never too bad.”
“Huh.”
Vua shrugged.
“What's on your mind?”
His question hung in the air for a moment as Vua searched for a simple enough answer to pacify. It wasn't as though there were any single thing on her mind, but the time seemed unsuitable to dump her thoughts on him. As always.
“I guess that's it.”
“Just the siege?”
“Yeah.”
She glanced at him long enough to see the raised eyebrow, pulled high enough to disappear underneath a disheveled mop of blue hair.
“Are you bothered by the simple fact of being in a war zone?”
Vua shrugged, rolling away from his false apathy as she remembered a vibration from her ComD several minutes ago when she'd been too busy to answer. Tapping the screen several times, hard, revealed a memo from the Med Captain requesting a time change in her schedule. The time now, according to the lettering on the wall of Quasian's room, was after 2200 - seven hours from her new start time of 0500.
Vua let out a long breath, relaxing her right shoulder.
“What is it?”
Quasian wrapped his arms around her, peering over her shoulder at the darkness of the screen, interrupted by several lines of bright green text.
“My start time is 0500.”
“Oh, shit.”
He laid back on the bed.
“Well, you can't get eight hours of sleep now. I guess we better just stay up all night.”
Vua shook her head slightly as she pulled back the covers.
“I'll see you tomorrow.”
His eyebrows pulled together slightly and he reached up a hand to rub between her shoulders as she sat up. His hand was warm, moist from the sweat and rough in several spots from a run in with the tool box last week.
Feeling the scabs the lock had left him, Vua's mind went back to her conversation with Leela, just a few hours before.
Do you think he's gonna...?
Quasian smiled at her dreamily, then let go to lie back in bed.
“If it would be easier for you, you're always welcome to spend the night,” he added.
But she was shaking her head already.
“No, I think I'll need to be as close to my uniform and breakfast as possible.” She glanced around before adding, “But thanks.”
Vua stood, stretching widely and reveling in the release of her tight muscles. Though her thighs were sore, she managed to stabilize herself with her toes, rocking slightly to re-ground herself and relax her shoulders after the intensity of the last few minutes.
Quasian was watching her with a mix of emotions. With certainty, the goofy smile he'd been wearing when they met on the base at Yuh'At was still there, plastered across his face from the pleasure of the night, but it now blended with the worry that filled his eyes and the hollowed cheeks the weeks of launch prep had left him with. It was a lovable face, but Vua couldn't help but wonder if another would have appreciated it more.
He looked down at the blankets, stretching a little himself.
“Well, take care of yourself, Vua. I guess... I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow. Portal nine should be back up and working in the morning, but if it's not, maybe I'll see you even earlier.”
Vua nodded as she pulled on her shirt, then thought to add, “Oh, good. So you all fixed it after...?”
He shrugged.
“I mean, it was working again. 'Fixed' might be too strong of a word for now.”
“Oh. Well, good luck, I guess.”
“Um, yeah. Thanks.”
Pouring all her attention into pulling on her socks, Vua tried not to wonder if she shouldn't say more. It seemed as if Quasian was grasping at things to make the conversation drag on, but at the same time any words Vua came up with rattled in the emptiness of her mind a little too loudly for her liking. It felt equally unfair for her to make things up to continue talking as it did for her to leave. Besides, her own bed and the sweet solitude of her quarters were waiting for her on the other side of the crew quarters, all the way in section 7 of deck 3.
She glanced behind her to see Quasian bite his lip, but as she turned, he raised his eyes again to smile at her.
Unable to prevent the compassionate gesture, she smiled back, hoping that, if not her conversation, her expression could bring him some comfort in her affections.
The effect was unclear, however. Quasian always looked somewhere between dreamily pleased and confused, and the look in his eyes reflected nothing different.
Vua attempted to reflect on the ambiguity as she stood to leave, but her thoughts were interrupted when Quasian rolled onto his stomach, facing her.
“Vua, would you be interested in meeting for dinner in the mess hall tomorrow? It would be nice to find some real time to talk and unwind from all... this...”
There was concern behind his eyes as he spoke, as though this were the act upon which his sanity depended.
Instinctively, Vua nodded.
“Sure. When does your shift end?”
He puffed out his cheeks, looking at the ceiling.
“Assuming none of the other portals fail, 2145.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay. Take care.”
“Yeah. I will.”
Then, as she walked toward the door she paused.
“You take care too.”
A frown.
“Well, yeah.”
***
Section 4
To say that Vua slept between 2330 and when she next rose would be an overstatement. Throughout her bleary stumble around her quarters, the making and drinking her last cup of tea, the grabbing of her last snack of the night, the swishing the antimicrobial solution around her teeth, and the several minutes too long of staring at the mirror, she would have predicted that the moment she laid down she would be asleep. And yet, not five minutes after she had shut off the lights, she was certain this night would be a long one. It was as though the moment she was free to rest her body had rejuvenated itself and her mind remembered every one of her concerns from over the last few days. They circled through her head, sometimes overtly as she recounted conversations that had happened. At times, they twisted and abstracted while she drifted closer to sleep; others simply remained in the back of her mind, seeding themselves into fear in her stomach or prickling worry in the back of her mind. Yet always, there they were, delaying the restfulness of the night.
When Vua opened her eyes for the last time after one particularly strange thought that could only be understood as a dream, the room felt colder. The vents on the walls were blowing, sending wisps of warm air past her face as the temperature controls attempted to compensate, but they were accompanied by a counter-breeze of icy cold coming from somewhere deeper in the blackness of the room.
At first, the sensation struck her as nothing out of the ordinary. The climate controls on board the U.F.S. Illiad were infamously decrepit, constantly under repair, and had been since the ship had been pulled from the scrap yard not a year before, according to Standard Entaer time. For nearly three weeks after the crew had boarded the ship and began preparations for the siege, sections five, six, seven, and nine of the deck three crew quarters of were known to drop their temperature to just above 9 degrees Celsius and stay there for days on end. Vua, and many of her shipmates, had grown accustomed to wandering their apartments in robes, slippers, and several sets of clothing beneath when they needed to be in their rooms, and otherwise avoiding the deck at all costs. Thus, at the first breath of cold, Vua rolled over, pulling her blankets up and tucking them under her chin to trap the warmth, as had become her custom.
Closing her eyes once more, Vua waited for sleep to take her back, away from the chill of the room. But it did not oblige. Instead, a twinge in her stomach answered her and the bracelet around her wrist tightened in warning.
With a pang of understanding, Vua's eyes snapped open again, staring into the deep darkness of her bedroom where shadows flowed easily from corner to corner, obscuring most of her view. Another one was here. She closed her eyes for just a moment and the bracelet twinged again. Then her stomach turned over. Nope. There was definitely one in here and she wasn't going to be allowed to sleep until it was taken care of.
The cold air chilled her cheeks as she lay there for a moment more, willing it to go away or become a false alarm. When it did no such thing, Vua let out a silent sigh. If she wasn't going to be able to sleep, then she might as well do something about this.
A clock was set into the wall of the room, off beyond the foot of the bed. From her spot, Vua could read the 0153 printed in luminescent green letters with a small 0400 below it, as a reminder of when the alarm would go off. By her count, she had only made it halfway through the night.
Silently swearing to herself, Vua pulled back the sheets, only to experience instant goosebumps as the frigid air slammed into her bare skin.
Her legs complained as she stood with a hand reaching out to connect with the smooth, freezing surface of the wall. Instead of reaching for the switch, however, she followed the plane of the wall, leading her toward the door of the bedroom. The cold painted metal stung her fingertips as she moved, and twice she tripped over the same shoe that she'd kicked carelessly to the wall of the room. Before she got far, however, Vua's fingers were caught by a cold chain that set to a gentle tinkle as the charms on the end clinked together. Running her fingers down the chain, she searched through the charms, passing the first, second, third, and fourth charms until she felt the familiar smoothness of the Tsiran shark tooth that had cost her far too much.
Pulling the necklace off the wall, Vua stuck the tooth in her mouth and looked around. Though the lights remained off, the shapes were clear, albeit slightly murky. A grey scale of formations now met her eyes, distinct from one another only by subtle differences in tone. It was light without a source, reminiscent of what the Tsiran sharks must see as they shimmered beneath the surface, hunting by night in the depths of the waters on Tsiro. No light could penetrate deep on the moon notoriously dark for it's heavily clouded skies.
Vua turned her gaze to the other charms on the necklace and picked up another: a tiny bottle, no larger than the last two segments of her pinky finger and filled with powder that she now dashed on her hands.
Before she could get the cap back on, however, a flickering figure appeared in the doorway to the bathroom. He was tall, slim, and made up of a brilliant white that flickered like candlelight. His form seemed to fade in and out of existence, like he was hardly even there, or perhaps as though he were being pulled back to somewhere on some distant plane from which he had come.
As he emerged from the doorway, he looked up, pointed at Vua.
“Shit,” she muttered through her teeth as she dropped the bottle.
His mouth dropped open, then further than it should have, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of his body, stretching from his upper lip to his navel. Still pointing at Vua, he began to walk forward, quickly, silently, without making a single sound, even though she could feel the screams emanating from the gaping hole.
Before he could reach her, however, Vua took several quick steps forward and grabbed the figure, hauling him around and positioning him partially in the wall. His arm drifted straight through, as though the walls were nothing more than a smoke screen and he a flame, but it felt like holding something as it rotted. Vua's fingers could feel as parts of him flickered in and out of this plane, hardening and disappearing beneath her coated fingers, as though he were falling apart where he stood. His arm passed through one of hers as he flailed, attempting to fight off the fingers that held him but unable to touch any other part of her body. His toe kicked the powder within the bottle, sending it tumbling away, but Vua ignored it.
The flickering emanated from his face, which was only inches from hers, but with details that were impossible to make out. Before her eyes, his features drifted in and out of existence, as though she were trying to discern them from through a glass statue. The eyes were empty pits of black, as was the mouth, but the nose and cheeks appeared sheet white, shimmering as he struggled to hold onto the plane.
Letting go with one hand, Vua ripped one of the tiny white beads off her bracelet, forced it into his chest, and crushed it between stiff fingers.
All at once, he collapsed in on himself, spiraling into the tiny place where the bead had been crushed, like a whirlpool. Tendrils of white snaked around, full of arms flying, hair sailing, and eyes begging. Then he was nothing more than a white speck that vanished as the remnants of the bead fell to the carpet.
Vua's hand hung empty in the air where she'd held onto a translucent collar while her other remained covered in white dust that gently floated to the floor where it mingled with the larger bits of the bead. A little further from her feet, another tiny pile of white powder had appeared, coinciding with the place the little bottle on her necklace had emptied itself onto the carpet.
The room was still once more. The feeling of wriggling in Vua's stomach slowed to no more than a tremor, enough that it could be mistaken for hunger if nothing else.
The room was certainly messier than when she had woken just a minute or so before. She could see the shoe she'd tripped over had migrated closer to the center of the room, and the two spills on the floor were enough to give the appearance of a lack of hygiene. No matter the mess, however, the mere concept of cleaning at that moment was out of the question. Certainly a good vacuuming could wait until her limbs didn't feel as though they were tied down by lead blocks.
Even as she took a seat on the end of her bed, however, Vua knew sleeping was equally out of the question. While the aches and pains of her body gave away the exhaustion harboring within her, her mind was moving again. Since launch from Wir 5 not six days ago, the number of haunting apparitions in her life had dramatically decreased, further hardening Vua's belief in the idea that she was safer from them off-world. It seemed more than likely that being in space, on a ship where few had died thus far, there were fewer spirits about with the ability to pester her, unlike when she spent time on a planet that had witnessed millions of deaths tied to its surface.
Silently, Vua thanked the Sfar, the keeper of the veil between dimensions, for this fact, and further, thanked Sfar that she, Vua, had been drafted by the Med Force rather than the infantry, keeping her away from the action to come on the surface of Ythac. If she were to march into the city of Cur'Nyara after the thousands of fresh deaths plaguing the city from the extraplanetary bombardment, there was no telling what kind of hoard would be waiting for her – or for the crew she was with. It remained unresolved as to whether others could see these beings. Thankfully, they had only appeared in private, but that held no bearing on the future.
And yet, being in space was equally problematic. As Vua sat in contemplation on her bed, she slipped on a ring that dangled from one of the links in the charm necklace. It fit her thumb perfectly, snuggling just below the ridge of the bend with one of the linked X's aligning with her thumb nail. Even when she dug deep, however, she could feel nothing of the Veil of Sfar. The world around her was a void, empty of both alternate dimensions and spirits. While the specters interrupting her life were fewer out here, it was in turn more difficult to try her hand at reaching for them, as she had done so effortlessly before the hideous gem had come into her life. Though her on-world efforts had failed, out here she had no method of measuring the success of her refreshed efforts.
Dropping the necklace, Vua spat out the shark tooth and allowed her vision to return to black. The ring slipped off and tinkled to the floor with the other charms where she left them. Vua dropped her head into her hands, balled her fingers into fists full of hair, and closed her eyes.
And that's where she stayed until nearly 0300, at which point she came to the conclusion that if she were going to be awake, she may as well be productive, and began attaching the new beads from Helia onto her bracelet. This activity managed to take up all the time before her alarm sounded at 0400, a time at which it became acceptable to dress and wander to the mess hall for breakfast before starting her shift.
Though the extra time Vua had before reaching her shift should have, by all means, made her early, it felt as though she had less time than any other day. Every movement from getting up from her bed, to antimicrobial washing her teeth, to responding to departmental messages that came through the ComD seemed to take much longer than usual, requiring twice the effort to finish. Each activity required a relocation of motivation, a very slow action phase, then a recovery phase in which Vua searched about her for the successive activity.
By the time she reached the mess hall, fully dressed and prepared for the day, it was nearly 0450, and as she walked through the door, it occurred to her that she had forgotten her ComD back in her quarters on the deck above. While the obvious answer to her problem was to grab food to go and run back to her quarters, approaching the counter to order complicated the morning further.
“Good morning Vua! What crew number are you today? Seems we're all running late today. But, actually, wait, you don't start 'till six right?”
The questions came from a purple-haired gentleman, standing behind her in line and nodding to another member of the Med Force as he spoke - the tall, square Brice Hanning off to Vua's right. She recognized the purple-haired man immediately as Lonas Evers, one of the elder members of the human crew. While her acquaintance with Evers had been short, the man's boisterous attitude and friendly nature put them on good terms and made him well-known to her almost immediately. Generally, running into Evers meant pleasant, one-sided conversation in which Vua need only participate by being physically present and occasionally offering one-word answers or a friendly nod.
After such a long night, the fact that Evers was the one Vua ran into was a relief. Very little effort was required on her part to continue the conversation. Unfortunately, very little effort was required for the conversation to continue, and continue, and continue some more. Vua glanced at her watch, acutely aware of the time ticking away and the distance between her quarters and the Med Transport room.
She shrugged.
“I forgot my ComD. I don't think my number came through either.”
His eyebrows shot up and he bared his teeth in joking worry.
“Yikes! Better run for that. Do you want me to make up an excuse for you when I get to the MT room?”
Vua shrugged again.
“Eh. I'll get there.”
Her eyes turned to the menu of the day, however, and her heart sank. Everything contained dairy, and/or eggs. Over the last few weeks it had become apparent that the mess hall had an inability to conjure up hypoallergenic foods, as had been displayed to Vua at nearly every meal.
“You know you can exchange your ration points for a better ComD. If you don't want to have to message the Med Captain every morning, that is.”
“Huh? Oh. It's fine.”
Evers laughed, planting his hands on his hips and looking over her shoulder at the menu.
“Whatever makes you happy, I guess. Wow, I never thought a menu could have so little variety.”
Vua nodded along.
For a moment, Vua could feel the energy from her purple-haired companion as he stood stock still, reading over the menu, a little too close for comfort. The moment was broken when she shuffled a step or two away.
“Oh, sorry.”
Evers shuffled over a little.
“I didn't mean to be reading over you like that.”
In response, however, Vua just shook her head.
“Don't worry about it.”
He laughed again, glancing away from the menu at her.
“Well, if you insist.”
“Order?”
The machine before them prompted the body in front of it, sensing it had been standing there, undecided for too long without ordering. Vua raised her eyebrows, as though startled, but caught herself enough to tap human on the screen. All the options were grayed out, indicating that everything available contained something she was unable to eat for medical reasons. The only button left was other, in the lower corner of the screen.
“Oh, that's harsh,” murmured Evers.
“Mm, yeah.”
The nice thing about the documentation within the Kingdom's mobile forces, was that it made replacement options free for Vua. The true misfortune was the equally low quality of food. Not that higher quality food was unavailable, but it did cost ration points, of which she was beginning to run dangerously low. Vua sighed. Then again, it was already a rough morning. A treat wasn't undeserved.
Specialty french toast it is. Tapping the button, Vua pulled out the wallet chip attached to her dog tags. This would hurt later.
When her food appeared on the counter, not two minutes later, the rarity of good food was reflected in Evers' eyes.
“Now it makes sense why you don't spend your ration points on a new ComD.”
Vua smiled.
“See you in the MT room.”
“Well, maybe, depending on your group.”
But she did. Vua skipped the wait for the lift to get between decks three and four, opting instead to struggle one-handed down the engineering ladders that lead through the scaffolding between the outer hull and the crew decks. Though colder by nearly 15 degrees Celsius, the route lead from just outside the mess hall directly to section 8 of deck 3, closer to her quarters than the lift tube. The result was that when the lift inevitably took an entire minute and a half to travel between decks 3 and 5, where the MT room was situated, Vua was only three minutes late for her shift – acceptably within the 4 minute grace period. The memo she sent to the Med Captain made it through on the third attempt, the reply of which reached her just seconds before she reached the MT room with a crew number.
Inside, the various crews were seated around in various stages of their shifts. The Xyt, Kitsa, and Hrecken all appeared well-into their afternoons, some exhausted, some bored, some both. The Xyt were sharing a meal in the corner, some of the legs of which were attempting to escape. Several of the Kitsa were still dressed in space suits, as though they had recently returned from a call somewhere with damaged atmospheric controls. The Hrecken were simply scattered about, some of them chatting with the Kitsa and the human crews bordering on the ends of their shifts.
Most of the human crews were in the process of shift change. Nearly three times the number of humans existed in the room proportional to the number of any other species as the human crew already 12 hours into a shift sat back to watch while the fresh A and B crews checked through the gear and ran the diagnostic checks that characterized the start of a new day.
A few familiar faces nodded to Vua as she walked in and pulled a bag off the wall to begin going through it.
Evers waved from a corner where he was resealing one of the pouches on his kit.
“Well?”
He paused for a moment while Vua glanced at her ComD again, just to make sure she had read the message right.
“A3. On board emergencies.”
“Ha. OB emergencies. We're working with Haylee, Tira...” He proceeded to name off a few more, inevitably forgetting several who raised their hands to call him out on it.
“Well maybe you just weren't as important as Girit,” he replied to one who attempted to look offended.
“Yeah! Maybe you just aren't as important as Girit,” added Girit from the corner.
“Aw, come on. I saw you trying to treat the girl who was half-Xyt the other day. After that mess you can't speak that highly of yourself,” added another as she finished tying up her bag.
“Xyt physiology is difficult!”
One of the Xyt turned and chattered something in Xytish which a friend in the nearby eating circle translated to “I'm sorry we're just that much more interesting than humans.”
“What a nice way of saying unnecessarily difficult.”
“It's difficult to remind you people how much more evolved we are.”
“Oooo, ouch. Want an ice pack for that burn? I've got an extra here.”
The banter continued for several minutes while the human crews finished checking out their equipment and up until the human B crews had packed up and moved themselves to the makeshift crew room several doors away and closer to the inter-ship transportation room. As the last of them pushed through the door, however, the volume level in the MT room dropped dramatically. The human crew at the end of their shift followed them out, waving hearty good-byes but not regretting being allowed to leave for their dinner time.
“Ah, the beauty of being in space. Time actually has no meaning when we're off world,” one said to Vua as she wandered out the door. Vua's unfamiliarity with the woman suggested that she must have been one of the crew members added in the Wir system. Nearly a third of the med crew had been picked up on the way to Ythac as they had passed through a number of the Kingdom's territories, taking on recruits who had been randomly selected for the bombardment from the drafts done in each district for the local Med Forces.
“Ha,” Vua replied, “number of emergencies never slows though.”
“Yeah, but I guess I don't mind being in a 24-hour community.”
The woman ran her fingers through hair that spoke volumes about how many times she had done exactly the same thing.
Vua shook her head.
“But it's just one more reminder of where we are.”
The woman bit her lip, then nodded her head to one side.
“Ah, well. I'll take it over Wir-4.”
Vua pictured the gas giant in the Wir system – a system where the planets had yet to be named because they were simply so peripheral to the focus of anyone. Vua's own experience on Wir-5 had convinced her the lack of attention was not undeserved.
“Yeah, that means nothing.”
“I know.”
The woman ran her fingers through her hair again, hiking her bag up further on her shoulder.
“Well, have a good shift. Be safe out there.”
Vua scoffed.
“Yeah. We'll be safe in here.”
Her new acquaintence laughed on her way out the door.
A guy she recognized as Jaffen Lewis, a slim man, bald but for four tentacles pointed at Vua from across the gaggle of med staff.
“Did you say you're A3 today?”
Vua nodded.
“Partner?”
“Yup.”
“Copy ya.”
“Good.”
Lewis turned away, pulling out a multireader and settling down to catch up on studying. Last she'd heard, his degree in economics had been interrupted by the draft, pulling him from his home in some tiny settlement of Trispia to join the war effort. That in mind, Vua made no motions to prevent the termination of their social interaction. In time, all partners talk about things, there was no escape. Despite Vua's uncanny ability to avoid conversation, 12 hours in a room was a long time for anyone to sit in silence.
Now lost for diversion, Vua turned to the rest of the room. Most of her human colleagues had begun settling into their regular routines. Several others had pulled out multireaders, but of those, perhaps half appeared to be actively reading. The unimpeded access to other distractions made it all too easy for attentions to wander once the device was opened and, as expected, many of Vua's colleagues appeared to be gaming or otherwise engaged on the device.
Hika had joined the Xyt in their lunch ritual. Of the few times they had spoken, Vua had come to know that, having been raised on Toxari, Hika had a tendency to surround herself with the Xyt coworkers in place of the human ones. Unwrapping one of the mess hall napkins, Hika revealed a small snack she must have saved from breakfast. The act made her acceptable by the Xyt group, and soon she was chittering away in the harsh Toxarian dialect she shared with several of their colleagues.
Taking a seat at one of the couches near the door, Vua adjusted the volume on her ComD so that it could be heard above the low background noise of the room. Almost on cue, Girit's ComD began beeping incessantly. He looked up to make eye contact with Haylee, who's ComD was buzzing, but in a softer, more bearable manner.
“Doesn't that drive you nuts?”
Haylee pointed at Girit's ComD, eyebrows puckered.
Girit shrugged.
“I had to turn it up loud enough that the noise could get past my thick skull.”
Haylee laughed as she stood, shouldering her bag.
“I don't believe it. Breathing problem this early? I was hoping for an uneventful shift.”
“Well that ship has sailed,” muttered Evers from behind his multireader. “Get to it!”
“I'm going, I'm going!”
“Eh hem? We're going? Mr. Important today, aren't you?”
“Just aware of my brilliance.”
“Whatever.”
Haylee put her palm on the pad by the door to Main Transportation and it blinked green, sliding open the door beside it. Most of the portals within were blinking blue, but a faint green glow reached Vua's eyes from somewhere within the room where the portal tech would have been punching away at the keys, pulling up the location of the call. For all she knew, it could be Quasian in there, biting his lip and frowning at the screen.
The thought was squashed, however, by the return of reason. Quasian didn't work until much later in the morning. There was no chance he was in unless the portals were malfunctioning again. Then again, from her understanding, it appeared that the technology within was fairly fragile, making the chances of another malfunction considerable.
Vua shrugged it off, sinking further into the couch and pulling out her writing pad. Light appeared behind the matted screen, illuminating several lines of drafted letters, each one with an address already selected, ready to be sent as soon as inter-system transmission restrictions were lifted. Back on Tsiro, Orilla was drinking up every detail of the bombardment, she knew. Most likely, the woman was checking her own writing pad and the local casualty listings every day, searching for any news of her daughters.
It was a sentiment Vua could have compassion for. She remembered the feeling from when she had been home, back when Nia had first been stationed on Ulkra, overlooking the trouble brewing at Cur'Nyara on the surface of Ythac. After the first set of inter-system transmission restrictions had been put in place, Vua and Orilla had developed a morning routine of checking their writing pads before bringing breakfast to the Hendrickson's store up the street where they could get caught up on the news and check the listings. Every day had been the same: nothing. Cur’Nyara was sending out more orders to its off-world colonies and raising defenses.
Even after Vua had been drafted, for the next few years the news had been the same, this time with ground forces gathering in Cur'Nyara and the few refugees that managed to escape the planet pouring in from the locations on the surface of Ythac, decimated by the Trallion forces.
The doors from which the last group of MT's had left slid open once again, revealing another group of human med force workers, shouldering their large bags, slouching, and giving off the aura of exhaustion that everyone in the room recognized as the universal sign for the end of shift.
Several of them waved to their good friends who returned the gesture, but the exchange was significantly quieter than with the last group. Rather, the bags were returned to their respective places, several individuals paused to send off the reports from their calls on their ComD's then belongings were gathered and they left, ready for a hard earned dinner and sleep.
Vua and the others in the room watched them go with varying degrees of jealousy. Some, particularly those who had been on shift for hours already, watched with regret, multireaders and objects of entertainment hanging limply in their grasp as they observed the walk to freedom they had been waiting for. Others, the humans in particular, glanced up with very little interest. There was recognition that soon, they too would be waiting with thinning patience for that part of their day, but that time had yet to arrive. For now, most of them were content with their entertainment devices and the random anxiety of hearing other's paged to respond to calls.
Tira glanced up from where she sat, using her multireader for actual reading.
“Hi, Vua. Ready for the gadget sweep tomorrow?”
Vua frowned, unable to recall hearing anything of the type.
“What?”
Tira nodded.
“Yeah. Did it go through on your ComD? They're doing another gadget sweep tomorrow. I guess the Trallions did some kind of counter-move and now their worried one of us is telling them...something. You know, with all the information we have on what's actually happening.”
Vua shook her head.
“I heard nothing.”
“Oh. In that case, I'm glad I brought it up. I think it's sometime between 0800 and 2000 hours tomorrow. Hide your spy gear!”
Vua shrugged.
“Their loss. I don't even have anything amusing.”
But George would. Deeply engaged in her research, despite the rules against practicing her art on board the U.F.S. Illiad, Vua’s dear friend in the pharmacy would almost certainly have things to keep secret.
Scratching her head in irritation, Vua knew full-well who she was going to see that evening.
She sighed, settling down to write a new letter. At least she didn't start work again until 1000 the next day.
***
When Vua opened her eyes for the last time after one particularly strange thought that could only be understood as a dream, the room felt colder. The vents on the walls were blowing, sending wisps of warm air past her face as the temperature controls attempted to compensate, but they were accompanied by a counter-breeze of icy cold coming from somewhere deeper in the blackness of the room.
At first, the sensation struck her as nothing out of the ordinary. The climate controls on board the U.F.S. Illiad were infamously decrepit, constantly under repair, and had been since the ship had been pulled from the scrap yard not a year before, according to Standard Entaer time. For nearly three weeks after the crew had boarded the ship and began preparations for the siege, sections five, six, seven, and nine of the deck three crew quarters of were known to drop their temperature to just above 9 degrees Celsius and stay there for days on end. Vua, and many of her shipmates, had grown accustomed to wandering their apartments in robes, slippers, and several sets of clothing beneath when they needed to be in their rooms, and otherwise avoiding the deck at all costs. Thus, at the first breath of cold, Vua rolled over, pulling her blankets up and tucking them under her chin to trap the warmth, as had become her custom.
Closing her eyes once more, Vua waited for sleep to take her back, away from the chill of the room. But it did not oblige. Instead, a twinge in her stomach answered her and the bracelet around her wrist tightened in warning.
With a pang of understanding, Vua's eyes snapped open again, staring into the deep darkness of her bedroom where shadows flowed easily from corner to corner, obscuring most of her view. Another one was here. She closed her eyes for just a moment and the bracelet twinged again. Then her stomach turned over. Nope. There was definitely one in here and she wasn't going to be allowed to sleep until it was taken care of.
The cold air chilled her cheeks as she lay there for a moment more, willing it to go away or become a false alarm. When it did no such thing, Vua let out a silent sigh. If she wasn't going to be able to sleep, then she might as well do something about this.
A clock was set into the wall of the room, off beyond the foot of the bed. From her spot, Vua could read the 0153 printed in luminescent green letters with a small 0400 below it, as a reminder of when the alarm would go off. By her count, she had only made it halfway through the night.
Silently swearing to herself, Vua pulled back the sheets, only to experience instant goosebumps as the frigid air slammed into her bare skin.
Her legs complained as she stood with a hand reaching out to connect with the smooth, freezing surface of the wall. Instead of reaching for the switch, however, she followed the plane of the wall, leading her toward the door of the bedroom. The cold painted metal stung her fingertips as she moved, and twice she tripped over the same shoe that she'd kicked carelessly to the wall of the room. Before she got far, however, Vua's fingers were caught by a cold chain that set to a gentle tinkle as the charms on the end clinked together. Running her fingers down the chain, she searched through the charms, passing the first, second, third, and fourth charms until she felt the familiar smoothness of the Tsiran shark tooth that had cost her far too much.
Pulling the necklace off the wall, Vua stuck the tooth in her mouth and looked around. Though the lights remained off, the shapes were clear, albeit slightly murky. A grey scale of formations now met her eyes, distinct from one another only by subtle differences in tone. It was light without a source, reminiscent of what the Tsiran sharks must see as they shimmered beneath the surface, hunting by night in the depths of the waters on Tsiro. No light could penetrate deep on the moon notoriously dark for it's heavily clouded skies.
Vua turned her gaze to the other charms on the necklace and picked up another: a tiny bottle, no larger than the last two segments of her pinky finger and filled with powder that she now dashed on her hands.
Before she could get the cap back on, however, a flickering figure appeared in the doorway to the bathroom. He was tall, slim, and made up of a brilliant white that flickered like candlelight. His form seemed to fade in and out of existence, like he was hardly even there, or perhaps as though he were being pulled back to somewhere on some distant plane from which he had come.
As he emerged from the doorway, he looked up, pointed at Vua.
“Shit,” she muttered through her teeth as she dropped the bottle.
His mouth dropped open, then further than it should have, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of his body, stretching from his upper lip to his navel. Still pointing at Vua, he began to walk forward, quickly, silently, without making a single sound, even though she could feel the screams emanating from the gaping hole.
Before he could reach her, however, Vua took several quick steps forward and grabbed the figure, hauling him around and positioning him partially in the wall. His arm drifted straight through, as though the walls were nothing more than a smoke screen and he a flame, but it felt like holding something as it rotted. Vua's fingers could feel as parts of him flickered in and out of this plane, hardening and disappearing beneath her coated fingers, as though he were falling apart where he stood. His arm passed through one of hers as he flailed, attempting to fight off the fingers that held him but unable to touch any other part of her body. His toe kicked the powder within the bottle, sending it tumbling away, but Vua ignored it.
The flickering emanated from his face, which was only inches from hers, but with details that were impossible to make out. Before her eyes, his features drifted in and out of existence, as though she were trying to discern them from through a glass statue. The eyes were empty pits of black, as was the mouth, but the nose and cheeks appeared sheet white, shimmering as he struggled to hold onto the plane.
Letting go with one hand, Vua ripped one of the tiny white beads off her bracelet, forced it into his chest, and crushed it between stiff fingers.
All at once, he collapsed in on himself, spiraling into the tiny place where the bead had been crushed, like a whirlpool. Tendrils of white snaked around, full of arms flying, hair sailing, and eyes begging. Then he was nothing more than a white speck that vanished as the remnants of the bead fell to the carpet.
Vua's hand hung empty in the air where she'd held onto a translucent collar while her other remained covered in white dust that gently floated to the floor where it mingled with the larger bits of the bead. A little further from her feet, another tiny pile of white powder had appeared, coinciding with the place the little bottle on her necklace had emptied itself onto the carpet.
The room was still once more. The feeling of wriggling in Vua's stomach slowed to no more than a tremor, enough that it could be mistaken for hunger if nothing else.
The room was certainly messier than when she had woken just a minute or so before. She could see the shoe she'd tripped over had migrated closer to the center of the room, and the two spills on the floor were enough to give the appearance of a lack of hygiene. No matter the mess, however, the mere concept of cleaning at that moment was out of the question. Certainly a good vacuuming could wait until her limbs didn't feel as though they were tied down by lead blocks.
Even as she took a seat on the end of her bed, however, Vua knew sleeping was equally out of the question. While the aches and pains of her body gave away the exhaustion harboring within her, her mind was moving again. Since launch from Wir 5 not six days ago, the number of haunting apparitions in her life had dramatically decreased, further hardening Vua's belief in the idea that she was safer from them off-world. It seemed more than likely that being in space, on a ship where few had died thus far, there were fewer spirits about with the ability to pester her, unlike when she spent time on a planet that had witnessed millions of deaths tied to its surface.
Silently, Vua thanked the Sfar, the keeper of the veil between dimensions, for this fact, and further, thanked Sfar that she, Vua, had been drafted by the Med Force rather than the infantry, keeping her away from the action to come on the surface of Ythac. If she were to march into the city of Cur'Nyara after the thousands of fresh deaths plaguing the city from the extraplanetary bombardment, there was no telling what kind of hoard would be waiting for her – or for the crew she was with. It remained unresolved as to whether others could see these beings. Thankfully, they had only appeared in private, but that held no bearing on the future.
And yet, being in space was equally problematic. As Vua sat in contemplation on her bed, she slipped on a ring that dangled from one of the links in the charm necklace. It fit her thumb perfectly, snuggling just below the ridge of the bend with one of the linked X's aligning with her thumb nail. Even when she dug deep, however, she could feel nothing of the Veil of Sfar. The world around her was a void, empty of both alternate dimensions and spirits. While the specters interrupting her life were fewer out here, it was in turn more difficult to try her hand at reaching for them, as she had done so effortlessly before the hideous gem had come into her life. Though her on-world efforts had failed, out here she had no method of measuring the success of her refreshed efforts.
Dropping the necklace, Vua spat out the shark tooth and allowed her vision to return to black. The ring slipped off and tinkled to the floor with the other charms where she left them. Vua dropped her head into her hands, balled her fingers into fists full of hair, and closed her eyes.
And that's where she stayed until nearly 0300, at which point she came to the conclusion that if she were going to be awake, she may as well be productive, and began attaching the new beads from Helia onto her bracelet. This activity managed to take up all the time before her alarm sounded at 0400, a time at which it became acceptable to dress and wander to the mess hall for breakfast before starting her shift.
Though the extra time Vua had before reaching her shift should have, by all means, made her early, it felt as though she had less time than any other day. Every movement from getting up from her bed, to antimicrobial washing her teeth, to responding to departmental messages that came through the ComD seemed to take much longer than usual, requiring twice the effort to finish. Each activity required a relocation of motivation, a very slow action phase, then a recovery phase in which Vua searched about her for the successive activity.
By the time she reached the mess hall, fully dressed and prepared for the day, it was nearly 0450, and as she walked through the door, it occurred to her that she had forgotten her ComD back in her quarters on the deck above. While the obvious answer to her problem was to grab food to go and run back to her quarters, approaching the counter to order complicated the morning further.
“Good morning Vua! What crew number are you today? Seems we're all running late today. But, actually, wait, you don't start 'till six right?”
The questions came from a purple-haired gentleman, standing behind her in line and nodding to another member of the Med Force as he spoke - the tall, square Brice Hanning off to Vua's right. She recognized the purple-haired man immediately as Lonas Evers, one of the elder members of the human crew. While her acquaintance with Evers had been short, the man's boisterous attitude and friendly nature put them on good terms and made him well-known to her almost immediately. Generally, running into Evers meant pleasant, one-sided conversation in which Vua need only participate by being physically present and occasionally offering one-word answers or a friendly nod.
After such a long night, the fact that Evers was the one Vua ran into was a relief. Very little effort was required on her part to continue the conversation. Unfortunately, very little effort was required for the conversation to continue, and continue, and continue some more. Vua glanced at her watch, acutely aware of the time ticking away and the distance between her quarters and the Med Transport room.
She shrugged.
“I forgot my ComD. I don't think my number came through either.”
His eyebrows shot up and he bared his teeth in joking worry.
“Yikes! Better run for that. Do you want me to make up an excuse for you when I get to the MT room?”
Vua shrugged again.
“Eh. I'll get there.”
Her eyes turned to the menu of the day, however, and her heart sank. Everything contained dairy, and/or eggs. Over the last few weeks it had become apparent that the mess hall had an inability to conjure up hypoallergenic foods, as had been displayed to Vua at nearly every meal.
“You know you can exchange your ration points for a better ComD. If you don't want to have to message the Med Captain every morning, that is.”
“Huh? Oh. It's fine.”
Evers laughed, planting his hands on his hips and looking over her shoulder at the menu.
“Whatever makes you happy, I guess. Wow, I never thought a menu could have so little variety.”
Vua nodded along.
For a moment, Vua could feel the energy from her purple-haired companion as he stood stock still, reading over the menu, a little too close for comfort. The moment was broken when she shuffled a step or two away.
“Oh, sorry.”
Evers shuffled over a little.
“I didn't mean to be reading over you like that.”
In response, however, Vua just shook her head.
“Don't worry about it.”
He laughed again, glancing away from the menu at her.
“Well, if you insist.”
“Order?”
The machine before them prompted the body in front of it, sensing it had been standing there, undecided for too long without ordering. Vua raised her eyebrows, as though startled, but caught herself enough to tap human on the screen. All the options were grayed out, indicating that everything available contained something she was unable to eat for medical reasons. The only button left was other, in the lower corner of the screen.
“Oh, that's harsh,” murmured Evers.
“Mm, yeah.”
The nice thing about the documentation within the Kingdom's mobile forces, was that it made replacement options free for Vua. The true misfortune was the equally low quality of food. Not that higher quality food was unavailable, but it did cost ration points, of which she was beginning to run dangerously low. Vua sighed. Then again, it was already a rough morning. A treat wasn't undeserved.
Specialty french toast it is. Tapping the button, Vua pulled out the wallet chip attached to her dog tags. This would hurt later.
When her food appeared on the counter, not two minutes later, the rarity of good food was reflected in Evers' eyes.
“Now it makes sense why you don't spend your ration points on a new ComD.”
Vua smiled.
“See you in the MT room.”
“Well, maybe, depending on your group.”
But she did. Vua skipped the wait for the lift to get between decks three and four, opting instead to struggle one-handed down the engineering ladders that lead through the scaffolding between the outer hull and the crew decks. Though colder by nearly 15 degrees Celsius, the route lead from just outside the mess hall directly to section 8 of deck 3, closer to her quarters than the lift tube. The result was that when the lift inevitably took an entire minute and a half to travel between decks 3 and 5, where the MT room was situated, Vua was only three minutes late for her shift – acceptably within the 4 minute grace period. The memo she sent to the Med Captain made it through on the third attempt, the reply of which reached her just seconds before she reached the MT room with a crew number.
Inside, the various crews were seated around in various stages of their shifts. The Xyt, Kitsa, and Hrecken all appeared well-into their afternoons, some exhausted, some bored, some both. The Xyt were sharing a meal in the corner, some of the legs of which were attempting to escape. Several of the Kitsa were still dressed in space suits, as though they had recently returned from a call somewhere with damaged atmospheric controls. The Hrecken were simply scattered about, some of them chatting with the Kitsa and the human crews bordering on the ends of their shifts.
Most of the human crews were in the process of shift change. Nearly three times the number of humans existed in the room proportional to the number of any other species as the human crew already 12 hours into a shift sat back to watch while the fresh A and B crews checked through the gear and ran the diagnostic checks that characterized the start of a new day.
A few familiar faces nodded to Vua as she walked in and pulled a bag off the wall to begin going through it.
Evers waved from a corner where he was resealing one of the pouches on his kit.
“Well?”
He paused for a moment while Vua glanced at her ComD again, just to make sure she had read the message right.
“A3. On board emergencies.”
“Ha. OB emergencies. We're working with Haylee, Tira...” He proceeded to name off a few more, inevitably forgetting several who raised their hands to call him out on it.
“Well maybe you just weren't as important as Girit,” he replied to one who attempted to look offended.
“Yeah! Maybe you just aren't as important as Girit,” added Girit from the corner.
“Aw, come on. I saw you trying to treat the girl who was half-Xyt the other day. After that mess you can't speak that highly of yourself,” added another as she finished tying up her bag.
“Xyt physiology is difficult!”
One of the Xyt turned and chattered something in Xytish which a friend in the nearby eating circle translated to “I'm sorry we're just that much more interesting than humans.”
“What a nice way of saying unnecessarily difficult.”
“It's difficult to remind you people how much more evolved we are.”
“Oooo, ouch. Want an ice pack for that burn? I've got an extra here.”
The banter continued for several minutes while the human crews finished checking out their equipment and up until the human B crews had packed up and moved themselves to the makeshift crew room several doors away and closer to the inter-ship transportation room. As the last of them pushed through the door, however, the volume level in the MT room dropped dramatically. The human crew at the end of their shift followed them out, waving hearty good-byes but not regretting being allowed to leave for their dinner time.
“Ah, the beauty of being in space. Time actually has no meaning when we're off world,” one said to Vua as she wandered out the door. Vua's unfamiliarity with the woman suggested that she must have been one of the crew members added in the Wir system. Nearly a third of the med crew had been picked up on the way to Ythac as they had passed through a number of the Kingdom's territories, taking on recruits who had been randomly selected for the bombardment from the drafts done in each district for the local Med Forces.
“Ha,” Vua replied, “number of emergencies never slows though.”
“Yeah, but I guess I don't mind being in a 24-hour community.”
The woman ran her fingers through hair that spoke volumes about how many times she had done exactly the same thing.
Vua shook her head.
“But it's just one more reminder of where we are.”
The woman bit her lip, then nodded her head to one side.
“Ah, well. I'll take it over Wir-4.”
Vua pictured the gas giant in the Wir system – a system where the planets had yet to be named because they were simply so peripheral to the focus of anyone. Vua's own experience on Wir-5 had convinced her the lack of attention was not undeserved.
“Yeah, that means nothing.”
“I know.”
The woman ran her fingers through her hair again, hiking her bag up further on her shoulder.
“Well, have a good shift. Be safe out there.”
Vua scoffed.
“Yeah. We'll be safe in here.”
Her new acquaintence laughed on her way out the door.
A guy she recognized as Jaffen Lewis, a slim man, bald but for four tentacles pointed at Vua from across the gaggle of med staff.
“Did you say you're A3 today?”
Vua nodded.
“Partner?”
“Yup.”
“Copy ya.”
“Good.”
Lewis turned away, pulling out a multireader and settling down to catch up on studying. Last she'd heard, his degree in economics had been interrupted by the draft, pulling him from his home in some tiny settlement of Trispia to join the war effort. That in mind, Vua made no motions to prevent the termination of their social interaction. In time, all partners talk about things, there was no escape. Despite Vua's uncanny ability to avoid conversation, 12 hours in a room was a long time for anyone to sit in silence.
Now lost for diversion, Vua turned to the rest of the room. Most of her human colleagues had begun settling into their regular routines. Several others had pulled out multireaders, but of those, perhaps half appeared to be actively reading. The unimpeded access to other distractions made it all too easy for attentions to wander once the device was opened and, as expected, many of Vua's colleagues appeared to be gaming or otherwise engaged on the device.
Hika had joined the Xyt in their lunch ritual. Of the few times they had spoken, Vua had come to know that, having been raised on Toxari, Hika had a tendency to surround herself with the Xyt coworkers in place of the human ones. Unwrapping one of the mess hall napkins, Hika revealed a small snack she must have saved from breakfast. The act made her acceptable by the Xyt group, and soon she was chittering away in the harsh Toxarian dialect she shared with several of their colleagues.
Taking a seat at one of the couches near the door, Vua adjusted the volume on her ComD so that it could be heard above the low background noise of the room. Almost on cue, Girit's ComD began beeping incessantly. He looked up to make eye contact with Haylee, who's ComD was buzzing, but in a softer, more bearable manner.
“Doesn't that drive you nuts?”
Haylee pointed at Girit's ComD, eyebrows puckered.
Girit shrugged.
“I had to turn it up loud enough that the noise could get past my thick skull.”
Haylee laughed as she stood, shouldering her bag.
“I don't believe it. Breathing problem this early? I was hoping for an uneventful shift.”
“Well that ship has sailed,” muttered Evers from behind his multireader. “Get to it!”
“I'm going, I'm going!”
“Eh hem? We're going? Mr. Important today, aren't you?”
“Just aware of my brilliance.”
“Whatever.”
Haylee put her palm on the pad by the door to Main Transportation and it blinked green, sliding open the door beside it. Most of the portals within were blinking blue, but a faint green glow reached Vua's eyes from somewhere within the room where the portal tech would have been punching away at the keys, pulling up the location of the call. For all she knew, it could be Quasian in there, biting his lip and frowning at the screen.
The thought was squashed, however, by the return of reason. Quasian didn't work until much later in the morning. There was no chance he was in unless the portals were malfunctioning again. Then again, from her understanding, it appeared that the technology within was fairly fragile, making the chances of another malfunction considerable.
Vua shrugged it off, sinking further into the couch and pulling out her writing pad. Light appeared behind the matted screen, illuminating several lines of drafted letters, each one with an address already selected, ready to be sent as soon as inter-system transmission restrictions were lifted. Back on Tsiro, Orilla was drinking up every detail of the bombardment, she knew. Most likely, the woman was checking her own writing pad and the local casualty listings every day, searching for any news of her daughters.
It was a sentiment Vua could have compassion for. She remembered the feeling from when she had been home, back when Nia had first been stationed on Ulkra, overlooking the trouble brewing at Cur'Nyara on the surface of Ythac. After the first set of inter-system transmission restrictions had been put in place, Vua and Orilla had developed a morning routine of checking their writing pads before bringing breakfast to the Hendrickson's store up the street where they could get caught up on the news and check the listings. Every day had been the same: nothing. Cur’Nyara was sending out more orders to its off-world colonies and raising defenses.
Even after Vua had been drafted, for the next few years the news had been the same, this time with ground forces gathering in Cur'Nyara and the few refugees that managed to escape the planet pouring in from the locations on the surface of Ythac, decimated by the Trallion forces.
The doors from which the last group of MT's had left slid open once again, revealing another group of human med force workers, shouldering their large bags, slouching, and giving off the aura of exhaustion that everyone in the room recognized as the universal sign for the end of shift.
Several of them waved to their good friends who returned the gesture, but the exchange was significantly quieter than with the last group. Rather, the bags were returned to their respective places, several individuals paused to send off the reports from their calls on their ComD's then belongings were gathered and they left, ready for a hard earned dinner and sleep.
Vua and the others in the room watched them go with varying degrees of jealousy. Some, particularly those who had been on shift for hours already, watched with regret, multireaders and objects of entertainment hanging limply in their grasp as they observed the walk to freedom they had been waiting for. Others, the humans in particular, glanced up with very little interest. There was recognition that soon, they too would be waiting with thinning patience for that part of their day, but that time had yet to arrive. For now, most of them were content with their entertainment devices and the random anxiety of hearing other's paged to respond to calls.
Tira glanced up from where she sat, using her multireader for actual reading.
“Hi, Vua. Ready for the gadget sweep tomorrow?”
Vua frowned, unable to recall hearing anything of the type.
“What?”
Tira nodded.
“Yeah. Did it go through on your ComD? They're doing another gadget sweep tomorrow. I guess the Trallions did some kind of counter-move and now their worried one of us is telling them...something. You know, with all the information we have on what's actually happening.”
Vua shook her head.
“I heard nothing.”
“Oh. In that case, I'm glad I brought it up. I think it's sometime between 0800 and 2000 hours tomorrow. Hide your spy gear!”
Vua shrugged.
“Their loss. I don't even have anything amusing.”
But George would. Deeply engaged in her research, despite the rules against practicing her art on board the U.F.S. Illiad, Vua’s dear friend in the pharmacy would almost certainly have things to keep secret.
Scratching her head in irritation, Vua knew full-well who she was going to see that evening.
She sighed, settling down to write a new letter. At least she didn't start work again until 1000 the next day.
***
Section 5
As soon as Vua was released from another painfully uneventful day, she made straight for the pharmacy on deck on deck six. To be sure, “pharmacy,” was a strong word for the place. Shunted to the corner, too hidden to be called accessible, and more in line with the out-of-date fashions of pre-Urdic human technologies, the pharmacy was a miserable workplace. The room, while labeled pharmacy, had functionally been an office for long before it had served as a room in which medical practice could actually take place. A desk, more suited for study than for consulting, still sat in the far corner of the room where an antique computer could be set upon it for private use. The half of the desk that would have wrapped around, however, had been pushed to face the front door, acting as a reception, though missing the customary receptionist.
All around the room the bookcases had been converted to drug storage. Some shelves served as stocking space, piled high with boxes, cases, and bottles of compounding materials while other shelves held little prescription bottles, arranged in rows across the front of each shelf, small slips of paper poking out here and there where names and dates had been neatly printed.
Most true to the room's original purpose, however, was the set of bookcases near the back of the space. One contained a multitude of boxes, full of the filing supplies that used to document everything that took place in the pharmacy department of the med deck since George rejected the software offered to her by the Med Force. Wherever possible, the boxes had been piled high to keep them out of the way of the other shelves that had been pulled in from other decks of the spacecraft. Papers stuck out at odd angles, files had been placed in empty cracks, and the labeling system was complete gibberish. Complete gibberish, that is, unless you were George L.
Standing in front of the final corner left undescribed, George was holding a book labeled Tollovick's Medical Dictionary Vol. 12. Like all the books on the shelf, it appeared benign and relevant to the pharmacy, but Vua would bet with almost complete certainty that it was nothing of the sort. More often than not it seemed George's precious volumes had more to do with her hobbies than her practice. On top of that, George's failure to notice Vua's entrance gave away how engrossed she was in her read – a rare occurrence when it came to actual work.
Vua passed the front desk then waited a second, aware that she was trespassing into a friend's territory but desiring the invitation enough to push the social boundaries.
When George failed to see her, however, it became apparent that more extreme measures were needed to pull George from her book. Steeling herself for the breach of etiquette, Vua took a deep breath, then cleared her throat.
Her friend's tentacled head shot up, not only pulling her from the book, but startling her much more than Vua had expected.
“Oh, V, it's you.”
George relaxed a bit, placing a hand on her face.
“You scared the stardust out of me. Gosh, I haven't seen you in ages! It's been, what, two days since you dropped by? Okay, I guess it's not that long, but it feels like it's been a very, very long time. How are you today?”
As the words left her mouth, however, some of her tentacles wilted a little.
“You look exhausted.”
Vua shrugged, looking around uncomfortably.
“I'm fine.”
“I see.”
George shut the book and, placing it on the shelf as gently as if it were her baby, dodged her way around several shelves and stacks of papers and boxes until she was a normal speaking distance from Vua. This in no way prevented her from speaking aloud the entire way.
“Goodness, I saw Leela yesterday evening. She came down here to check in with me and ask if I'd send you away if you showed up – very worried you were weren't sleeping enough or something. I haven't seen Quasian, though, not since we left Wir-5. Oh, shit, I forgot to put this away. Oh, whatever, I'll get to it later on. And all that...”
George was standing directly in front of Vua now, and she put several of her hands on what seemed as close to hips as she had – a gesture she had learned since she began to spend time around humans.
“Well, is there something I can do for you? This certainly isn't just a social call. My guess is you would be in your quarters if you had no reason to be here.”
Vua glanced around the room again.
“I need something to help me sleep.”
The light sensor spots on George's face scrunched.
“I”ll say. Have you tried laying down and closing your eyes?”
Vua gave her an irritated look.
“Just asking,” muttered George. “So you're probably looking for some melatonin or something, which I think I left right... there.”
She turned to one of the stock shelves that appeared to have no order to it whatsoever and easily plucked a bottle down.
“I'll give you enough for the next month if it means you'll have lighter circles under your eyes, but you should really be weaning off of this. It's going to ruin your body's ability to sleep on its own.”
Vua looked down at the little bottle and frowned.
“Isn't that one of those things they used to give people in the dark ages of medicine?”
Georges eyes ceased roaming the room for the spare bottles to turn back to her friend.
“Hmm, yeah, people have been taking this for hundreds of years, but it's endured because its one of the ancient remedies that actually works. A little. Sometimes.”
“You're not trying to give me something... different in nature?”
Vua thought guiltily of the charm necklace in her work bag, wondering if any of her ingredients were going to mix poorly with one of George's alchemical concoctions. George tended to use chemicals unfamiliar to her own palette, a fact Vua generally attributed to their differing goals.
George's eye spots squinted.
“Certainly not. This should be all you need, and if it's not, you have a different problem.”
Vua relaxed. This didn't have to be the day she explained herself to George, that was a relief.
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Let me get you a pill bottle to take with you. I can't have you running off with all of this – it's a little overkill for just you. Maybe if you had an entire family...”
Walking directly to a shelf off to Vua's left, George deftly pulled another bottle from yet another organized mess.
“So... have you heard about the gadget sweep tomorrow?”
As she asked, Vua watched George's back as the pharmacist poured pills between two bottles, fully expecting a stiffening of surprise. If anyone was going to be behind on these things, it was usually George – too locked up in her own work to keep up with the ongoings of the ship.
Where the surprise would have been, however, she found an unexpected calm.
“Yes! I've been checking through my books all day and I think I've got myself all put together. You know, I've put things away, I've been cleaning all day, and I think I've finally unpacked the last box from moving the lab in here. That is to say, I was wrong about the one three days ago – I found a few more hiding in a corner after that, but I suppose that's life.”
Vua shrugged.
“Oh, cool.”
George nodded, screwing on the cap and replacing the extra drugs back into the mess she'd pulled them from.
“And yourself? Have you hidden away all your secret transmission gadgets and stolen plasma blades, and that escape pod I'm sure you keep under your bed?”
Vua shrugged.
“My quarters are boring. They can tear it to pieces.”
“I suppose that would make your decoration a lot more interesting. Didn't Leela give you something to hang on the wall before we left Wir-5?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it up?”
“No.”
“Have you told her?”
“Should I bring it up?”
George shrugged, handing Vua the new bottle of medication.
“I suppose that's a little strange to bring up, isn't it? I mean, you certainly could, but she would be so surprised, she'd probably drag you over to see Miria.”
After thinking for a moment about their mutual acquaintance in the ICU, George added, “Well, maybe not Miria, but certainly someone. Who handles the psych stuff now? I know it was Kella, but she moved to... one of the other ships I can't remember.”
She shrugged.
“In any case, you should put up the decorations Leela gave you. She has good taste.”
Vua shrugged.
“Maybe.”
The conversation was permitted to die, then as both individuals looked about themselves – one searching for conversation, the other summoning courage.
Upon realizing that Vua was hardly the type to spread secrets and, more often than not, was willing to assist with strange endeavors, George had explained her secret love of alchemy a short time after they'd met. She'd shared her books, all of them disguised as medicine, and some of her concoctions that accomplished seemingly supernatural tasks without poking through the Veil. The message had been clear – Almost nothing restricted Vua from asking George when she was in need. And yet, Vua's own unwillingness to share her past of secrets had prevented her from crossing certain boundaries with her requests. Medicines of alchemical nature were off-limits for her from her lack of knowledge about the ingredients kept in George's lab.
Helia had been a different story – more like a business reference from Vua's sister, Nia. Distrust, however, placed limits on Vua's willingness to consult Helia on many things – the foremost of which being Vua's current lack of access to the Veil after the accident. George, on the other hand...
Vua thought back on her months of failure at reconnecting with the Veil. Without her own seemingly supernatural practices surrounding her, she felt empty – unable to interact with the world on her own terms. Definitely, this was an evening to review her notes on some of the more effective rituals and alchemical aids to contacting the Veil that she'd come across in her research. With nearly 14 hours to herself before the next shift, nothing stood in her way, and until she had looked over the books of her own, there was no reason to reveal her secrets to George.
“Have you gotten dinner yet?”
George's question shook Vua from her thoughts, first relaxing her shoulders as she hardened her mind against asking for help, then causing a rush of adrenaline as she remembered her prior engagements. While dinner with Quasian had seemed an unobtrusive request, the idea was now more of a burden. Of course she had less than 14 hours – it would be more like 12 or 11 hours, 12 if she were lucky.
Glancing at her watch, Vua cursed.
“No, but I have to go.”
The act of taking a step back reminded Vua of her manners, however, and she stopped herself just enough to say, “Sorry.”
George didn't seem surprised by the abrupt change in her friend's nature, and shrugged it off.
“Don't be sorry. Do you have dinner plans already?”
Vua nodded, dropping her hands into her pockets.
“Yeah...” Then, with a second thought, “You can come, if you like.”
George shook her head.
“Are they with Quasian? Yeah, I thought so. No, I wouldn't do that... Well, don't let me hold you up. Before you go, though, would you mind telling me your hours tomorrow? I mean, you don't have to, but I wouldn't mind taking a few minutes to catch up. Do they give you a lunch break these days?”
Vua shook her head.
“No. Eat on the job.”
“Right. I forgot, we don't listen to research about that sort of thing. Okay, well what time are you off?”
“2000 hours.”
“Dammit, that's a little late for me. That's a few hours after I get off from this shift and I only have 20 hours before my next one.”
She sighed.
“Well, come in whenever you've got a chance. I'll let you go this time.”
Vua nodded.
“I'm sorry. I'll see you soon.”
“I certainly hope so.”
***
All around the room the bookcases had been converted to drug storage. Some shelves served as stocking space, piled high with boxes, cases, and bottles of compounding materials while other shelves held little prescription bottles, arranged in rows across the front of each shelf, small slips of paper poking out here and there where names and dates had been neatly printed.
Most true to the room's original purpose, however, was the set of bookcases near the back of the space. One contained a multitude of boxes, full of the filing supplies that used to document everything that took place in the pharmacy department of the med deck since George rejected the software offered to her by the Med Force. Wherever possible, the boxes had been piled high to keep them out of the way of the other shelves that had been pulled in from other decks of the spacecraft. Papers stuck out at odd angles, files had been placed in empty cracks, and the labeling system was complete gibberish. Complete gibberish, that is, unless you were George L.
Standing in front of the final corner left undescribed, George was holding a book labeled Tollovick's Medical Dictionary Vol. 12. Like all the books on the shelf, it appeared benign and relevant to the pharmacy, but Vua would bet with almost complete certainty that it was nothing of the sort. More often than not it seemed George's precious volumes had more to do with her hobbies than her practice. On top of that, George's failure to notice Vua's entrance gave away how engrossed she was in her read – a rare occurrence when it came to actual work.
Vua passed the front desk then waited a second, aware that she was trespassing into a friend's territory but desiring the invitation enough to push the social boundaries.
When George failed to see her, however, it became apparent that more extreme measures were needed to pull George from her book. Steeling herself for the breach of etiquette, Vua took a deep breath, then cleared her throat.
Her friend's tentacled head shot up, not only pulling her from the book, but startling her much more than Vua had expected.
“Oh, V, it's you.”
George relaxed a bit, placing a hand on her face.
“You scared the stardust out of me. Gosh, I haven't seen you in ages! It's been, what, two days since you dropped by? Okay, I guess it's not that long, but it feels like it's been a very, very long time. How are you today?”
As the words left her mouth, however, some of her tentacles wilted a little.
“You look exhausted.”
Vua shrugged, looking around uncomfortably.
“I'm fine.”
“I see.”
George shut the book and, placing it on the shelf as gently as if it were her baby, dodged her way around several shelves and stacks of papers and boxes until she was a normal speaking distance from Vua. This in no way prevented her from speaking aloud the entire way.
“Goodness, I saw Leela yesterday evening. She came down here to check in with me and ask if I'd send you away if you showed up – very worried you were weren't sleeping enough or something. I haven't seen Quasian, though, not since we left Wir-5. Oh, shit, I forgot to put this away. Oh, whatever, I'll get to it later on. And all that...”
George was standing directly in front of Vua now, and she put several of her hands on what seemed as close to hips as she had – a gesture she had learned since she began to spend time around humans.
“Well, is there something I can do for you? This certainly isn't just a social call. My guess is you would be in your quarters if you had no reason to be here.”
Vua glanced around the room again.
“I need something to help me sleep.”
The light sensor spots on George's face scrunched.
“I”ll say. Have you tried laying down and closing your eyes?”
Vua gave her an irritated look.
“Just asking,” muttered George. “So you're probably looking for some melatonin or something, which I think I left right... there.”
She turned to one of the stock shelves that appeared to have no order to it whatsoever and easily plucked a bottle down.
“I'll give you enough for the next month if it means you'll have lighter circles under your eyes, but you should really be weaning off of this. It's going to ruin your body's ability to sleep on its own.”
Vua looked down at the little bottle and frowned.
“Isn't that one of those things they used to give people in the dark ages of medicine?”
Georges eyes ceased roaming the room for the spare bottles to turn back to her friend.
“Hmm, yeah, people have been taking this for hundreds of years, but it's endured because its one of the ancient remedies that actually works. A little. Sometimes.”
“You're not trying to give me something... different in nature?”
Vua thought guiltily of the charm necklace in her work bag, wondering if any of her ingredients were going to mix poorly with one of George's alchemical concoctions. George tended to use chemicals unfamiliar to her own palette, a fact Vua generally attributed to their differing goals.
George's eye spots squinted.
“Certainly not. This should be all you need, and if it's not, you have a different problem.”
Vua relaxed. This didn't have to be the day she explained herself to George, that was a relief.
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Let me get you a pill bottle to take with you. I can't have you running off with all of this – it's a little overkill for just you. Maybe if you had an entire family...”
Walking directly to a shelf off to Vua's left, George deftly pulled another bottle from yet another organized mess.
“So... have you heard about the gadget sweep tomorrow?”
As she asked, Vua watched George's back as the pharmacist poured pills between two bottles, fully expecting a stiffening of surprise. If anyone was going to be behind on these things, it was usually George – too locked up in her own work to keep up with the ongoings of the ship.
Where the surprise would have been, however, she found an unexpected calm.
“Yes! I've been checking through my books all day and I think I've got myself all put together. You know, I've put things away, I've been cleaning all day, and I think I've finally unpacked the last box from moving the lab in here. That is to say, I was wrong about the one three days ago – I found a few more hiding in a corner after that, but I suppose that's life.”
Vua shrugged.
“Oh, cool.”
George nodded, screwing on the cap and replacing the extra drugs back into the mess she'd pulled them from.
“And yourself? Have you hidden away all your secret transmission gadgets and stolen plasma blades, and that escape pod I'm sure you keep under your bed?”
Vua shrugged.
“My quarters are boring. They can tear it to pieces.”
“I suppose that would make your decoration a lot more interesting. Didn't Leela give you something to hang on the wall before we left Wir-5?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it up?”
“No.”
“Have you told her?”
“Should I bring it up?”
George shrugged, handing Vua the new bottle of medication.
“I suppose that's a little strange to bring up, isn't it? I mean, you certainly could, but she would be so surprised, she'd probably drag you over to see Miria.”
After thinking for a moment about their mutual acquaintance in the ICU, George added, “Well, maybe not Miria, but certainly someone. Who handles the psych stuff now? I know it was Kella, but she moved to... one of the other ships I can't remember.”
She shrugged.
“In any case, you should put up the decorations Leela gave you. She has good taste.”
Vua shrugged.
“Maybe.”
The conversation was permitted to die, then as both individuals looked about themselves – one searching for conversation, the other summoning courage.
Upon realizing that Vua was hardly the type to spread secrets and, more often than not, was willing to assist with strange endeavors, George had explained her secret love of alchemy a short time after they'd met. She'd shared her books, all of them disguised as medicine, and some of her concoctions that accomplished seemingly supernatural tasks without poking through the Veil. The message had been clear – Almost nothing restricted Vua from asking George when she was in need. And yet, Vua's own unwillingness to share her past of secrets had prevented her from crossing certain boundaries with her requests. Medicines of alchemical nature were off-limits for her from her lack of knowledge about the ingredients kept in George's lab.
Helia had been a different story – more like a business reference from Vua's sister, Nia. Distrust, however, placed limits on Vua's willingness to consult Helia on many things – the foremost of which being Vua's current lack of access to the Veil after the accident. George, on the other hand...
Vua thought back on her months of failure at reconnecting with the Veil. Without her own seemingly supernatural practices surrounding her, she felt empty – unable to interact with the world on her own terms. Definitely, this was an evening to review her notes on some of the more effective rituals and alchemical aids to contacting the Veil that she'd come across in her research. With nearly 14 hours to herself before the next shift, nothing stood in her way, and until she had looked over the books of her own, there was no reason to reveal her secrets to George.
“Have you gotten dinner yet?”
George's question shook Vua from her thoughts, first relaxing her shoulders as she hardened her mind against asking for help, then causing a rush of adrenaline as she remembered her prior engagements. While dinner with Quasian had seemed an unobtrusive request, the idea was now more of a burden. Of course she had less than 14 hours – it would be more like 12 or 11 hours, 12 if she were lucky.
Glancing at her watch, Vua cursed.
“No, but I have to go.”
The act of taking a step back reminded Vua of her manners, however, and she stopped herself just enough to say, “Sorry.”
George didn't seem surprised by the abrupt change in her friend's nature, and shrugged it off.
“Don't be sorry. Do you have dinner plans already?”
Vua nodded, dropping her hands into her pockets.
“Yeah...” Then, with a second thought, “You can come, if you like.”
George shook her head.
“Are they with Quasian? Yeah, I thought so. No, I wouldn't do that... Well, don't let me hold you up. Before you go, though, would you mind telling me your hours tomorrow? I mean, you don't have to, but I wouldn't mind taking a few minutes to catch up. Do they give you a lunch break these days?”
Vua shook her head.
“No. Eat on the job.”
“Right. I forgot, we don't listen to research about that sort of thing. Okay, well what time are you off?”
“2000 hours.”
“Dammit, that's a little late for me. That's a few hours after I get off from this shift and I only have 20 hours before my next one.”
She sighed.
“Well, come in whenever you've got a chance. I'll let you go this time.”
Vua nodded.
“I'm sorry. I'll see you soon.”
“I certainly hope so.”
***
section 6
The lack of bodies moving about the med deck spoke volumes about the state of the bombardment. Though several ships had been damaged over the course of the past few days, few enough had been lost that their occupants had filled the Illiad. Unlike those stories that had been passed orally through the med force like the wildfires on the open lands of Ythac of overcrowded ships, lack of supplies, food, and the universal air supply, the med deck of the Illiad stood as a representation of the largely unused space aboard the Illiad. Caretakers gratefully spent most of their shifts in quarters, chatting with doctors, or otherwise idly engaged. Many had been recruited for other tasks on the ship, training to assist with the common repairs and kitchen duties that pulled maintenance crews from the more important jobs.
Passing several diagnostic techs, Vua received nods and a single wave, giving evidence to their recognition of patches that dotted the shoulders of her uniform that gave her access to their social circle. The small cluster stood just outside one of the wards.
It was one of the ones currently closed off for lack of patients; carbon bars had been pulled down to cover the entrance and locked in place by the finger pad off to the right. No lights blazed from within to illuminate the carefully made beds. Only the glow of a distant computer escaped the bars to give any indication that something existed in the expanse of gray, amorphous emptiness within.
“Busy day, eh?”
One of them chuckled to Vua.
She rolled her eyes.
“I almost wish.”
“'Almost' is key.”
She nodded in return and the group chuckled.
“Have a good evening,” one called, and Vua waved a hand behind her as she passed out of sight.
Moving on, she found her way down the main avenue of the deck, a space wide enough to land a small craft if need be, lined with office windows and closets full of supplies and extra beds in preparation for harder times. Deserted as it was, the Illiad's med deck gave Vua a feeling of desolation, as though she were passing through a town, deserted from tragedy. Though Vua knew time may yet come when those beds would be needed, the possibility was looking less likely every day. The Illiad had yet to be called close enough to the action to help more than the occasional limping ship, despite the constant chance of disaster, or, Sfar prohibit, disease.
She shuddered at the thought. Even when Vua had been far from the action on Tsiro, refugees had carried a plague back to the moon not two years before, leaving hundreds dead in the med force hospitals of the city of Faerock where she had been stationed. The images of the sea of beds, spilling out of the plague hospitals and into the surrounding buildings had never left her mind's eye – nor had the smell of hundreds, rotting slowly away in their beds in the furthest rooms of the Faerock Central Castle, unable to be moved to the overcrowded morgues.
At the end of the avenue, three people were waiting for the lift to ride up to the higher decks, either to sleep, to eat, or to return to quarters for the afternoon. Each person stared in patient silence at the arrows atop the doors in anticipation. Whatever their destinations, Vua's heart sank at the sight of them knowing that in all likelihood she would have to wait for the lift to stop off on several decks before her own.
Swallowing the sigh, Vua attempted a smile with little success, then shoved her hands down deeper into her pockets. The others gave her little notice, several of them changing their focus to engage themselves instead in responding to pages on their ComD's or blatantly avoiding eye-contact. The sound of fingers tapping screens or buttons clicking touched her ears like firecrackers disrupting the peace of the deck.
Vua checked her own ComD, but the distraction it provided was minimal. No new memos had come through – not even from Quasian. The lack of dinner messages left Vua almost relieved, as it was one less message out there that may get flagged for lack of relevance to the ships ongoings. Clogging up the paging channels was a decently high ranking offense and Vua wished nothing less than to explain herself to the communications team during her much needed sleep hours.
After five minutes or so, the lift appeared – this time crowded with people heading to and from shifts. Several Oxari shuffled out of the way to allow the four med staff on, pressing their gelatinous bodies against the sides of the lift in the most courteous manner.
Vua nodded gratefully to one of them, earning her a pleasant look. As they all stumbled around to face the door, tripping over one another in the process, a whirring Vua had never noticed before in the lift shaft slowed to a stop.
“Goddamn it,” muttered someone behind her.
“Hold on.”
Someone pounded on the wall beside the key pad and the whirring buzzed back to life.
“Nailed it, Sik.”
“Thanks man.”
The doors slid shut and the pod began grinding along. The success only lasted until the next floor, when the doors slid open and the whirring stopped once more, this time for good.
“Crap. Lift 1 is out. Everybody out. I'm paging Central Engineering.”
The one called Sik began pushing through the crowd, fighting to pull his ComD off his belt.
“Sorry everybody,” he called over his shoulder. “I guess we gotta get creative to get upstairs. Hope no one's late.”
By the irritated murmurs of the Oxari, it was quite clear that several people were, in fact, very late – a fact further evidenced by their frantic slithering away down the central corridor in the direction of lift 2.
Much of the crowd followed in their wake, some at a breakneck pace, others at more of a saunter, enjoying the feeling of taking their time as they wandered on. Weaving around one another in the narrow corridor, not one of the individuals leaving lift 1 strayed from the main avenue of deck 5, instead creating a blood clot in the artery heading for lift 2.
The image of the crowd that would soon be descending on lift 2 was enough to turn Vua from the main concourse of the engineering deck. She turned her attention instead to a smaller offshoot. Winding away from the heart of the ship, it made a path to the outer hull of the ship - ergo, access to the engineer ladders in the scaffolding. Though not the most direct route, it held potential for the solitude in which the lifts were lacking.
As she drifted from the center of the deck, Vua began to take note of the crowd that had been absent before the Illiad’s launch. Though significantly smaller than the medical plaza, the corridors of deck five appeared notably more populated. Vua passed the on-call transport engineering barracks, the inside of which appeared to be home to a very large game of some sort, made up of a large ring of engineers seated around a table, chatting merrily and looking over a hand of cards and strange looking pieces, the kind of which Vua had never seen.
As she passed the double doors, several more crew members passed her by, offering her friendly greetings as they entered the room to join the group within.
Unlike the med deck, Vua found herself passing people left and right, many running errands for Main Transportation Engineering, the center of which was back near the MT room. Most of the faces were friendly, smiling at Vua, nodding, squinting, or undulating in her direction as they passed. Some were more occupied in their work, staring at the clipboards before them or attempting to balance large quantities of tools, the uses of which Vua could only imagine. Several familiar faces passed, but their names remained a mystery. They were the type of faces she could recall but had never truly become acquainted with and likely never would.
The thought didn't bother her. Vua knew very well that friends were not the top priority of most of the crew of the UFS Iliad. Remaining on board long enough to make friends was more of a punishment than a pleasure.
Thus, as Vua passed these friendly faces, she returned their greetings with no attempts at conversation. Instead, she allowed all her interactions to be brief and shallow as she made her way to the less-populated edge of the deck.
After passing the doors to another engineering room, the name of which had never been known to her, the crowd had thinned to no more than a trickle. Here and there an individual would pass her by, but it was becoming rare. Instead, Vua found herself passing supply rooms, arranged in a darker period of history to buffer the inside of the ship from enemy fire.
Vua approached one last corner, glimpsing a human man through a doorway off to her right just moments before she turned the bend. He appeared to be taking an inventory – writing pad in hand, stylus tapping away at various buttons. Just before he disappeared from her sight, he looked up to face her and his expression changed from a blank, end-of-shift stare to a look of dramatic horror.
Then he was gone, behind the corner of the bend in the corridor. For a brief moment, Vua wondered if she could have imagined the look. Or perhaps there had been some unknown reason for it – a sneeze, or perhaps a deep, labored sigh. She could certainly take several steps back to check on the man. It wouldn't take more than several seconds to ensure the face had been nothing more than the result of an out-of-context still. These thoughts quickly dropped when a scream sounded behind her, emanating from the doorway she had just passed.
Vua paused physically now, contemplating her options. She could certainly turn back and help – and the thought made her turn around. But then she paused. She had no idea what sort of a disaster had just befallen the man she passed. Likely the look on his face had been related to the scream – suggesting there may be something dangerous or otherwise unsavory in the room that may not be in her best interests to encounter. Then again, her training in the med force did make her a likely candidate to assist if the problem were a true emergency. Knowledge of the emergency services on board would make it easier for her to contact the correct response teams.
Alternatively, she could just leave. That thought, though tempting and easily the simplest of her options, was quickly dismissed. Before she could review the other options further, a flickering figure glided through the wall just in front of her, staring blankly ahead with empty sockets for eyes and features that appeared to flick in and out of existence.
It sailed into the corridor as though the structure of the ship were no barrier at all – which indeed appeared to be the case for the figure. As it emerged, however, it slowly turned its head to face Vua. Long hair rippled over the shoulders and tentacles dripped venom from the face, quickening to a stream as it locked it's empty eyes on the human figure before it. The eyes grew; deep black pits that punctured the face, stretching the surrounding paleness into deformity and bulging the head out in front of the body as it picked up speed, on a collision course with Vua.
“Fuck.”
She fumbled for the necklace that had hung at her throat back home, but her fingers came away with the empty collar of her shirt and a tremble from the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck!”
Desperate, Vua took several steps backward until her heel tapped the wall, buying herself a half a second as she ripped one of the beads off her bracelet just in time to crush it inside the approaching monster.
The thing swirled out of existence, this time with a pop that made Vua sigh with relief. Any closer and she certainly would have gone down – there was no denying it. She was definitely going to have to start carrying the powdered salt, though. This was unacceptable.
As she dusted off her hands from the crushed bead, footsteps rounded the corner.
“Ma'am! I need your assistance. Either I'm seeing things, or there is a monster around here – did you see it? With black eyes and... white...”
The poor man had run out of the supply room and, though he couldn't have run more than ten meters, now leaned on the wall and panted a little, feeling the rush of fear that was gripping his body.
Vua took a deep breath, slowing her own heart and shook her head, trying to recall her acting skills.
“I... didn't see anything.”
The lie was about as simple and pathetic as it could have been. Vua almost rolled her eyes at her own words as they left her mouth.
The man took several deep breaths, leaning heavily on the arm he had placed on the wall.
“I – I don't know what it was. I mean, it was like, I don't know. You didn't see it?”
Vua took a deep breath, a feeling gnawing at the inside of her stomach as she spun the lie.
“There's a white powder here?” she offered limply.
His eyes grew huge.
“I wonder if that's from the... thing. Or, I could have sworn it was there... maybe here... I don't know...”
Vua dug her nails into her palms, as she turned away. It felt awful to say, but as she started walking away she said, “I suggest you contact your superior. I didn't see anything, though.”
But rather than walking away, Vua looked back over her shoulder.
The man looked as though he were having a heart attack. His skin was pale, clammy with sweat that was beginning to bead as his body struggled to catch up with the sudden rush of adrenaline, and his breaths, though slowing slightly, were coming in pants – not what they should have been.
Vua sighed. No, she couldn't just walk away.
Turning back completely, she touched his arm.
“Come on. I'll walk you back to the med deck. Lift 1 is out though.”
***
Section 7
Much of the crowd followed in their wake, some at a breakneck pace, others at more of a saunter, enjoying the feeling of taking their time as they wandered on.
Whatever the pace of the abandoned occupants of lift 1, the image of the crowd that would soon be descending on lift 2 was enough to turn Vua from the main avenue on deck five. She turned her attention instead to a smaller offshoot, leading off in the opposite direction from the MT room, making a winding path toward the outer hull of the ship. Though significantly smaller than the medical plaza, the corridors of deck five appeared notably more populated. Vua passed the on-call transport engineering barracks, the inside of which appeared to be home to a very large game of some sort, made up of a large ring of engineers seated around a table, chatting merrily and looking over a hand of cards and strange looking pieces, the kind of which Vua had never seen.
As she passed the double doors, several more crew members passed her by, offering her friendly greetings as they entered the room to joining the group within.
Unlike the med deck, Vua found herself passing people left and right, many running errands for Main Transportation Engineering, the center of which was back near the MT room. Most of the faces were friendly, smiling at Vua, nodding, squinting, or undulating in her direction as they passed. Some were more occupied in their work, staring at the clipboards before them or attempting to balance large quantities of tools, the uses of which Vua could only imagine. Several familiar faces passed, but their names remained a mystery. They were the type of faces she could recall but had never truly become acquainted with and likely never would.
The thought didn't bother her. Vua knew very well that friends were not the top priority of most of the crew of the UFS Iliad. Remaining on board long enough to make friends was more of a punishment than a pleasure.
Thus, as Vua passed these friendly faces, she returned their greetings with no attempts at conversation. Instead, she allowed all her interactions to be brief and shallow as she made her way to the less-populated edge of the deck.
After passing the doors to another engineering room, the name of which had never been known to her, the crowd had thinned to no more than a trickle. Here and there an individual would pass her by, but it was becoming rare. Instead, Vua found herself passing supply rooms, arranged in a darker period of history to buffer the inside of the ship from enemy fire.
Vua approached one last corner, glimpsing a human man through a doorway off to her right just moments before she turned the bend. He appeared to be taking an inventory – writing pad in hand, stylus tapping away at various buttons. Just before he disappeared from her sight, he looked up to face her and his expression changed from a blank, end-of-shift stare to a look of dramatic horror.
Then he was gone, behind the corner of the bend in the corridor. For a brief moment, Vua wondered if she could have imagined the look. Or perhaps there had been some unknown reason for it – a sneeze, or perhaps a deep, labored sigh. She could certainly take several steps back to check on the man. It wouldn't take more than several seconds to ensure the face had been nothing more than the result of an out-of-context still. These thoughts quickly dropped when a scream sounded behind her, emanating from the doorway she had just passed.
Vua paused physically now, contemplating her options. She could certainly turn back and help – and the thought made her turn around. But then she paused. She had no idea what sort of a disaster had just befallen the man she passed. Likely the look on his face had been related to the scream – suggesting there may be something dangerous or otherwise unsavory in the room that may not be in her best interests to encounter. Then again, her training in the med force did make her a likely candidate to assist if the problem were a true emergency. Knowledge of the emergency services on board would make it easier for her to contact the correct response teams.
Alternatively, she could just leave. That thought, though tempting and easily the simplest of her options, was quickly dismissed.
Before she could review the other options further, a flickering figure glided through the wall just in front of her, staring blankly ahead with empty sockets for eyes and features that appeared to flick in and out of existence. It sailed into the corridor as though the walls on either side of Vua were no barrier at all – which appeared to be the case for the figure. As it emerged, however, it slowly turned its head to face Vua. Long hair rippled over the shoulders and tentacles dripped venom from the face, quickening to a stream as it locked it's empty eyes on the human figure before it. The eyes grew; deep black pits that punctured the face, stretching the surrounding paleness into deformity and bulging the head out in front of the body as it picked up speed, on a collision course with Vua.
“Fuck.”
She fumbled for the necklace that had hung at her throat back home, but her fingers came away with the empty collar of her shirt and a tremble from the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck!”
Desperate, Vua took several steps backward until her heel tapped the wall, buying herself a half a second as she ripped one of the beads off her bracelet...
Just in time to crush it inside the approaching monster.
The thing swirled out of existence, this time with a pop that made Vua sigh with relief. Any closer and she certainly would have gone down – there was no denying it. She was definitely going to have to start carrying the powdered salt, though. This was unacceptable.
As she dusted off her hands from the crushed bead, footsteps rounded the corner.
“Ma'am! I need your assistance. Either I'm seeing things, or there is a monster around here – did you see it? With black eyes and... white...”
The poor man had run out of the supply room and, though he couldn't have run more than 10 meters, now leaned on the wall and panted a little, feeling the rush of fear that was gripping his body.
Vua took a deep breath, slowing her own heart and shook her head, trying to recall her acting skills.
“I... didn't see anything.”
The lie was about as simple and pathetic as it could have been. Vua almost rolled her eyes at her own words as they left her mouth.
The man took several deep breaths, leaning heavily on the arm he had placed on the wall.
“I – I don't know what it was. I mean, it was like, I don't know. You didn't see it?”
Vua took a deep breath, a feeling gnawing at the inside of her stomach as she spun the lie.
“There's a white powder here?” she offered limply.
His eyes grew huge.
“I wonder if that's from the... thing. Or, I could have sworn it was there... maybe here... I don't know...”
Vua dug her nails into her palms, as she turned away. It felt awful to say, but as she started walking away she said, “I suggest you contact your superior and ask for the afternoon off. I didn't see anything, though.”
But rather than walking away, Vua looked back over her shoulder.
The man looked as though he were having a heart attack. His skin was pale, clammy with sweat that was beginning to bead as his body struggled to catch up with the sudden rush of adrenaline, and his breaths, though slowing slightly, were coming in pants – not what they should have been.
Vua sighed. No, she couldn't just walk away.
Turning back completely, she touched his arm.
“Come on. I'll walk you back to the med deck. Lift 1 is out though.”
***
Whatever the pace of the abandoned occupants of lift 1, the image of the crowd that would soon be descending on lift 2 was enough to turn Vua from the main avenue on deck five. She turned her attention instead to a smaller offshoot, leading off in the opposite direction from the MT room, making a winding path toward the outer hull of the ship. Though significantly smaller than the medical plaza, the corridors of deck five appeared notably more populated. Vua passed the on-call transport engineering barracks, the inside of which appeared to be home to a very large game of some sort, made up of a large ring of engineers seated around a table, chatting merrily and looking over a hand of cards and strange looking pieces, the kind of which Vua had never seen.
As she passed the double doors, several more crew members passed her by, offering her friendly greetings as they entered the room to joining the group within.
Unlike the med deck, Vua found herself passing people left and right, many running errands for Main Transportation Engineering, the center of which was back near the MT room. Most of the faces were friendly, smiling at Vua, nodding, squinting, or undulating in her direction as they passed. Some were more occupied in their work, staring at the clipboards before them or attempting to balance large quantities of tools, the uses of which Vua could only imagine. Several familiar faces passed, but their names remained a mystery. They were the type of faces she could recall but had never truly become acquainted with and likely never would.
The thought didn't bother her. Vua knew very well that friends were not the top priority of most of the crew of the UFS Iliad. Remaining on board long enough to make friends was more of a punishment than a pleasure.
Thus, as Vua passed these friendly faces, she returned their greetings with no attempts at conversation. Instead, she allowed all her interactions to be brief and shallow as she made her way to the less-populated edge of the deck.
After passing the doors to another engineering room, the name of which had never been known to her, the crowd had thinned to no more than a trickle. Here and there an individual would pass her by, but it was becoming rare. Instead, Vua found herself passing supply rooms, arranged in a darker period of history to buffer the inside of the ship from enemy fire.
Vua approached one last corner, glimpsing a human man through a doorway off to her right just moments before she turned the bend. He appeared to be taking an inventory – writing pad in hand, stylus tapping away at various buttons. Just before he disappeared from her sight, he looked up to face her and his expression changed from a blank, end-of-shift stare to a look of dramatic horror.
Then he was gone, behind the corner of the bend in the corridor. For a brief moment, Vua wondered if she could have imagined the look. Or perhaps there had been some unknown reason for it – a sneeze, or perhaps a deep, labored sigh. She could certainly take several steps back to check on the man. It wouldn't take more than several seconds to ensure the face had been nothing more than the result of an out-of-context still. These thoughts quickly dropped when a scream sounded behind her, emanating from the doorway she had just passed.
Vua paused physically now, contemplating her options. She could certainly turn back and help – and the thought made her turn around. But then she paused. She had no idea what sort of a disaster had just befallen the man she passed. Likely the look on his face had been related to the scream – suggesting there may be something dangerous or otherwise unsavory in the room that may not be in her best interests to encounter. Then again, her training in the med force did make her a likely candidate to assist if the problem were a true emergency. Knowledge of the emergency services on board would make it easier for her to contact the correct response teams.
Alternatively, she could just leave. That thought, though tempting and easily the simplest of her options, was quickly dismissed.
Before she could review the other options further, a flickering figure glided through the wall just in front of her, staring blankly ahead with empty sockets for eyes and features that appeared to flick in and out of existence. It sailed into the corridor as though the walls on either side of Vua were no barrier at all – which appeared to be the case for the figure. As it emerged, however, it slowly turned its head to face Vua. Long hair rippled over the shoulders and tentacles dripped venom from the face, quickening to a stream as it locked it's empty eyes on the human figure before it. The eyes grew; deep black pits that punctured the face, stretching the surrounding paleness into deformity and bulging the head out in front of the body as it picked up speed, on a collision course with Vua.
“Fuck.”
She fumbled for the necklace that had hung at her throat back home, but her fingers came away with the empty collar of her shirt and a tremble from the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck!”
Desperate, Vua took several steps backward until her heel tapped the wall, buying herself a half a second as she ripped one of the beads off her bracelet...
Just in time to crush it inside the approaching monster.
The thing swirled out of existence, this time with a pop that made Vua sigh with relief. Any closer and she certainly would have gone down – there was no denying it. She was definitely going to have to start carrying the powdered salt, though. This was unacceptable.
As she dusted off her hands from the crushed bead, footsteps rounded the corner.
“Ma'am! I need your assistance. Either I'm seeing things, or there is a monster around here – did you see it? With black eyes and... white...”
The poor man had run out of the supply room and, though he couldn't have run more than 10 meters, now leaned on the wall and panted a little, feeling the rush of fear that was gripping his body.
Vua took a deep breath, slowing her own heart and shook her head, trying to recall her acting skills.
“I... didn't see anything.”
The lie was about as simple and pathetic as it could have been. Vua almost rolled her eyes at her own words as they left her mouth.
The man took several deep breaths, leaning heavily on the arm he had placed on the wall.
“I – I don't know what it was. I mean, it was like, I don't know. You didn't see it?”
Vua took a deep breath, a feeling gnawing at the inside of her stomach as she spun the lie.
“There's a white powder here?” she offered limply.
His eyes grew huge.
“I wonder if that's from the... thing. Or, I could have sworn it was there... maybe here... I don't know...”
Vua dug her nails into her palms, as she turned away. It felt awful to say, but as she started walking away she said, “I suggest you contact your superior and ask for the afternoon off. I didn't see anything, though.”
But rather than walking away, Vua looked back over her shoulder.
The man looked as though he were having a heart attack. His skin was pale, clammy with sweat that was beginning to bead as his body struggled to catch up with the sudden rush of adrenaline, and his breaths, though slowing slightly, were coming in pants – not what they should have been.
Vua sighed. No, she couldn't just walk away.
Turning back completely, she touched his arm.
“Come on. I'll walk you back to the med deck. Lift 1 is out though.”
***
Section 8
Though she did nothing but walk in silence, Vua's presence appeared to make a difference in the man's behavior. By the time she left him under the eye of one of Leela's coworkers on the main med deck, the stranger appeared almost normal, though still in disbelief from his experience. His skin had regained it's darker, pinkish color and his breathing had slowed to an acceptable rate.
Despite the distant sense of what might have been satisfaction, the appearance of one of the spirits haunting her outside her quarters left her feeling off. She could feel that the movements of her hands had become slightly jerky as she fumbled with the palm recognition pad that opened one of the main engineering tubes that ran up and down the side of the ship, and she still felt queasy when she reached her quarters nearly 10 minutes later.
When she had slammed and locked the door behind her she paused, looking about the space: a narrow table built into the wall; an omni-cooker; an armchair; a tiny circle of a window that framed the UFS Kispian. Vua had been lucky so far as rooms go. Not only had her seniority earned her more than a bedroom with an omni-cooker, but it had saved her from the barracks. She never had to share her space with a dozen or more snoring members of the force and she didn't have to wake up to everyone's shift alarms going off. Most importantly, she had the privacy to conduct her experiments, throw together charms to ward off the unique dangers her previous abilities had left her with, and fight off the spirits that came for her in the night.
But she took advantage of it less frequently than she should. In a perfect world, each night should have been dedicated to her studies so that she could more successfully attempt to re-establish contact with the Veil. This fact was all too obvious to her, and yet, as she stood in the doorway, 17 hours in to her day and over three hours from her dinner plans with nothing to do, the thought of studying seemed to her too much trouble for the reward. Sure, she could, perhaps, find a way to block the spirits following her, but then again, they didn't come that often, and of those times, most of them were in the safety of her quarters.
The incident not 15 minutes before stood in stark contrast to this assertion, however, and Vua bit her lip angrily. When would she have time like this again? Almost never.
Stepping out of her shoes, Vua dragged her weary body to the bedroom door just to her left. Finding her way to the dusty corner where she spent far too little of her time, Vua picked up one of the books she had borrowed from George.
Disguised as an anatomy text, bound in the faded remains of an ancient textbook from long before the human settlements of the T system, real pages of thin, slick paper turned under her fingers, filled with illustrations and words depicting the creatures that lived beyond the Veil: the valarites. The images reflected reality with disturbing detail, showing every feature of the vicious pests with disturbing accuracy. Though it had been months now since Vua had seen one, the images were enough to give way to a familiar visceral reaction in her gut.
Within the small group of practitioners on Tsiro, big spells had been expressly forbidden. The result, of course, had been an uptick in the number of alchemists in the system. The problem of course was that Tsiro, holding a relatively large portion of the population interested in the Planar Arts, set the precedent for the system's market – a rather unfortunate fact that placed many users of the Planar Arts in desperate competition with the alchemical traders in the system.
All the same, it took no large spell to open a hole in the Veil large enough for valarites to crawl through, and though their lifespan was short – not more than a few hours – their presence rarely went unnoticed.
Vua shook off the memories as she collapsed onto her bed with the book, lounging on her stomach as she allowed the shakes to pass from her hands and engaged herself in searching the table of contents with fresh eyes (or more fresh than they had been in previous looks) for anything relating to loss of contact with the Veil that lay over existence.
As before, the first comb over exposed nothing of particular interest. Most of the entries were more encyclopedic in nature, giving factual accounts of experimentation with particular parts of the Veil. Somewhat unsurprisingly, there had been attempts to travel into or beyond the Veil – several even claiming to border on success – but the conclusions were always the same: that is to say, inconclusive.
Though certainly not in relation to her unwillingness to rise from her bed and exchange the book for another, Vua's will to read thoroughly lead her to peruse the book a second time, this time with a more fine-tooth comb. On this pass over, her eye was caught by a note about a particular spell – one that she had been capable of in years past but had not tried since her incident.
Though taxing as a ritual, the spell as a whole required few ingredients, most of which could be obtained from George or Helia. They were simple, the ritual possible in her confined space, and the preparation surprisingly painless. It returned objects effected by the planar arts to their more mundane state by canceling out the properties given to them.
The problem was that she still needed to put effort into accessing those ingredients.
She would talk to George tomorrow.
The thought felt satisfying enough that Vua shut the book, opting to reward her efforts with a few minutes of screen time with the standard issue LoScreen entertainment system meant to replace the gadgets taken from the crew. As she powered up the screen, Vua checked the time on the wall. She was allotting herself thirty minutes – then she was going back to studying.
***
Despite the distant sense of what might have been satisfaction, the appearance of one of the spirits haunting her outside her quarters left her feeling off. She could feel that the movements of her hands had become slightly jerky as she fumbled with the palm recognition pad that opened one of the main engineering tubes that ran up and down the side of the ship, and she still felt queasy when she reached her quarters nearly 10 minutes later.
When she had slammed and locked the door behind her she paused, looking about the space: a narrow table built into the wall; an omni-cooker; an armchair; a tiny circle of a window that framed the UFS Kispian. Vua had been lucky so far as rooms go. Not only had her seniority earned her more than a bedroom with an omni-cooker, but it had saved her from the barracks. She never had to share her space with a dozen or more snoring members of the force and she didn't have to wake up to everyone's shift alarms going off. Most importantly, she had the privacy to conduct her experiments, throw together charms to ward off the unique dangers her previous abilities had left her with, and fight off the spirits that came for her in the night.
But she took advantage of it less frequently than she should. In a perfect world, each night should have been dedicated to her studies so that she could more successfully attempt to re-establish contact with the Veil. This fact was all too obvious to her, and yet, as she stood in the doorway, 17 hours in to her day and over three hours from her dinner plans with nothing to do, the thought of studying seemed to her too much trouble for the reward. Sure, she could, perhaps, find a way to block the spirits following her, but then again, they didn't come that often, and of those times, most of them were in the safety of her quarters.
The incident not 15 minutes before stood in stark contrast to this assertion, however, and Vua bit her lip angrily. When would she have time like this again? Almost never.
Stepping out of her shoes, Vua dragged her weary body to the bedroom door just to her left. Finding her way to the dusty corner where she spent far too little of her time, Vua picked up one of the books she had borrowed from George.
Disguised as an anatomy text, bound in the faded remains of an ancient textbook from long before the human settlements of the T system, real pages of thin, slick paper turned under her fingers, filled with illustrations and words depicting the creatures that lived beyond the Veil: the valarites. The images reflected reality with disturbing detail, showing every feature of the vicious pests with disturbing accuracy. Though it had been months now since Vua had seen one, the images were enough to give way to a familiar visceral reaction in her gut.
Within the small group of practitioners on Tsiro, big spells had been expressly forbidden. The result, of course, had been an uptick in the number of alchemists in the system. The problem of course was that Tsiro, holding a relatively large portion of the population interested in the Planar Arts, set the precedent for the system's market – a rather unfortunate fact that placed many users of the Planar Arts in desperate competition with the alchemical traders in the system.
All the same, it took no large spell to open a hole in the Veil large enough for valarites to crawl through, and though their lifespan was short – not more than a few hours – their presence rarely went unnoticed.
Vua shook off the memories as she collapsed onto her bed with the book, lounging on her stomach as she allowed the shakes to pass from her hands and engaged herself in searching the table of contents with fresh eyes (or more fresh than they had been in previous looks) for anything relating to loss of contact with the Veil that lay over existence.
As before, the first comb over exposed nothing of particular interest. Most of the entries were more encyclopedic in nature, giving factual accounts of experimentation with particular parts of the Veil. Somewhat unsurprisingly, there had been attempts to travel into or beyond the Veil – several even claiming to border on success – but the conclusions were always the same: that is to say, inconclusive.
Though certainly not in relation to her unwillingness to rise from her bed and exchange the book for another, Vua's will to read thoroughly lead her to peruse the book a second time, this time with a more fine-tooth comb. On this pass over, her eye was caught by a note about a particular spell – one that she had been capable of in years past but had not tried since her incident.
Though taxing as a ritual, the spell as a whole required few ingredients, most of which could be obtained from George or Helia. They were simple, the ritual possible in her confined space, and the preparation surprisingly painless. It returned objects effected by the planar arts to their more mundane state by canceling out the properties given to them.
The problem was that she still needed to put effort into accessing those ingredients.
She would talk to George tomorrow.
The thought felt satisfying enough that Vua shut the book, opting to reward her efforts with a few minutes of screen time with the standard issue LoScreen entertainment system meant to replace the gadgets taken from the crew. As she powered up the screen, Vua checked the time on the wall. She was allotting herself thirty minutes – then she was going back to studying.
***
Section 9
2135, nearly two hours into her allotted thirty minutes of LoScreen time, found Vua rolling off her bed for the first time since returning to her quarters. It wasn't that she had been lazy since her return; more that she had been deserving of a break after a long hard day succeeding a long hard week following a long hard year. The time spent in leisure felt completely justified, even up to the point when she knew she could no longer reasonably make it to the mess hall before 2145, even if she were dressed and ready to walk out the door. And yet, still she found herself standing in front of the mirror as she pulled a sweater over a shirt that didn't look quite right. To be sure, she didn't care so much about how she looked, but it was nice to know what she looked like before going out. Quasian of course wouldn't care if she put effort into her appearance, Vua reminded herself as she tied her hair back to hide the rats nest slowly developing on the top where she'd scratched repeatedly that day. Likely he would be showing up in uniform anyways, having just come straight from shift.
The thought made Vua bite her lip and relax slightly. Remembering that her partner's shift would be only just ending, Vua slowed her pace slightly. He wouldn't be able to beat her to the mess hall coming from main transportation engineering. The lifts were far too slow and too few – not to mention the malfunction in lift 1. There was time to gather her wits about her before going back into public.
Somehow, this offered little comfort. Though Vua knew she had all the time in the world, the adrenoline was pumping through her veins for the second time that afternoon. It was as though she couldn't quite grasp the idea that she need not hurry and instead found herself working just as frantically to pull on her shoes as she would have been if she were running ten minutes late for her own shift. The relaxation of just minutes ago had abandoned her body, leaving behind the sharp edges of agitation that gave way to her quick, seemingly efficient movements.
As she slipped on her second shoe with one hand, Vua clipped her ComD onto her belt with the other, tucking it carefully beneath the sweater where it would be most inconspicuous. As she straightened fully once more, she forced herself to pause, taking a deep breath. She was getting dinner – a thing everybody did every day. Moreover, it was with Quasian, the last person in the universe she need worry about interacting with.
Guiltily, the thought calmed her down more than it should have. He was a good guy – a good partner, and she liked him a lot. Now whether they would last as a couple, that was another question entirely and one she preferred not to dwell on.
She patted her ComD, the dogtags around her neck, feeling specifically for the wallet chip holding her ration points whenever the online system went dark, then for the plasma blade she'd been issued for when situations on scenes got hairy. Finding everything just where it should be, Vua glanced around one more time. Now that she had remembered exactly where she was going enough to stop herself from rushing, she found her feet dragging a little with the memory that she could have had this entire evening off if not for this meeting. That is, there was very little holding her back from creating some excuse and encoding it into a memo to Quasian with such a wording that it wouldn't be flagged in the system for its irrelevance to work. It would be simple to claim exhaustion – if for no other reason than it was true.
But the thought of the boy's disappointment stopped her. Not that Vua had anything against disappointing people, but a promise was a promise.
Her eyes completed the last sweep.
Nope – she definitely had everything.
Pushing her way out into the hall, Vua took no detours in her path for the engineering tube that took her to the mess hall and she passed almost no one in route. Haylee waved as they nearly collided at one corner, but she was the last person Vua saw before entering the mess hall.
In contrast to the crew quarters of deck three, the mess hall was packed. Their dinner plans appeared to coincide exactly with one of the major Kitsa shift changes, as the mess hall was flooded with individuals in uniforms sporting patches of the T-system and the seal of the Arvori ambassador from the Kitsa home world. While the tables appeared to have remained largely open, the large influx of people had formed a line to order food that backed up around the room and out the double doors leading to the main crew quarters on deck four.
Her heart sank as she spied Quasian in the back, seated near the windows with a bowl of something that steamed as he stirred the spoon in a circle, looking dreamily out into the void beyond.
As her eyes found him, however, his turned to notice her weaving her way through the chaos, fighting for a place in line. Although Quasian looked as though he were expecting her to come join him, Vua decided food should be her first priority. If she was here she was going to eat. Had they desired a purely social call they could have met up anywhere else.
Unfortunately, Vua quickly found she had underestimated the line. Several minutes after attatching herself to the end, just beyond the doors to the mess hall, she had moved perhaps ten feet: hardly an eighth of the way across the gigantic room. On top of that, she was finding herself jostled from every side, bumped back and forth unwittingly by the much larger people around her. They shifted back and forth on their many feet as they spoke excitedly to one another, somehow still filled with energy after a long, hard 60-hour shift. One stepped on Vua's foot at one point, but when he turned to apologize, he peered straight over her head for a solid three seconds before comprehending she was lower to the ground. He then proceeded to apologize profusely for both offenses until Vua had to smile and pat him on the back, assuring him that she was, (and truly she was), completely unhurt both physically and emotionally.
Satisfied, he saluted before turning back to the group he was chatting with, engaging once more with all the vigor of the conversation and Vua was left to herself, but not for long. Not a minute later, Quasian poked his way through the crowd, joining Vua in line.
“I thought I might come back for the dessert. And the company I suppose, if I must.”
Vua frowned.
“They serve dessert?”
Quasian shook his head.
“Well, sadly, I don't think that's changed.”
“Oh.”
The conversation lapsed into silence, broken only by the chatter of those around them. Vua broke the moment as she asked, “So... how was your day...?”
Quasian shrugged.
“It was fine. Portal 2 down on deck nine quit about an hour into my shift so I spent most of my day fixing that. Turns out some of the reconfiguring filters were malfunctioning, so the detector systems shut the whole thing down – and thank god. Can you imagine if someone had managed to get through that but got put back together wrong?”
“I hope my answer is never yes.”
“If that's the case then we both are gonna need some counseling for work-based incidents.”
“Yeah.”
Quasian shrugged, glancing around.
“How about you? Any interesting things happen today?”
But Vua was already shaking her head.
“Literally nothing. No calls.”
Quasian's eyebrows shot up.
“Wow. Yeah, that's really boring.”
“Tell me about it.”
He smiled, almost to himself, and looked down.
“Anything interesting happen otherwise? Did you try to do anything with your evening? I say try because I know better than to hope for success.”
Vua thought of the ghost on the engineering deck and shrugged.
“Nope. Nothing.”
Quasian smiled and took her hand.
“Well then, I have nothing to compete with for attention, do I?”
Vua smiled, but it didn't feel as heartfelt as she would have liked. Instead, she felt guilty, like she was leading him on when in fact she had less vested interest in their relationship than he.
“My LoScreen was pretty interesting.”
“Aaaahhhh, yes, I'm afraid I cannot play movies across my face, but I can set up a movie for you to watch on a big screen, if it pleases my lord.”
“Perhaps.”
The crowd moved forward several feet as one of the larger groups moved away from the front of the line, carrying food.
The movement distracted Vua from the conversation and she looked away from Quasian again. As her eyes slid away from the clasped hand she'd been staring at, her gaze was captured by the window, through which she could now see Ulkra, Ythac's moon, now so close as it passed for another orbit, yet so far away. She fancied she could see the city on the surface; shimmering, clear domes and tunnels where the citizens overlooked the green planet below, as encased in glass as the planet whirrled through the empty, star-dusted void. At that moment, they were watching, she was sure. Whenever the moon was turned properly and the view was lined up, they were all watching, breathless at the fiery display below.
Vua could imagine them all there, huddling together beneath one of the glass ceilings that she knew spotted the surface as they waited for the outcome of the assault.
In reality, little more than craters met her gaze. Features coated in glaciers and the occasional red dusting of iron ore. A fine mist hovered over it all; an atmosphere only capable of distorting the features of the landscape just enough to blur the lines from her eyes. It was impossible to distinguish one circular element from the central hall of the Ulkran city or the tiny fork of a glacial river from one of the tunnels.
“Do you think Nia's still there?”
In his eyes, Quasian held the compassion they had shared for one another since their first bonding over sibling on different, dangerous worlds. But he wasn't looking at Vua as he spoke. Instead, his eyes had, like hers, fixated themselves out the window on the small moon in plain sight. That look in his eyes reminded Vua that while she had received word on her sister a little over three weeks ago, Quasian hadn't heard of his sister for nearly three months.
Vua squeezed his hand.
“It doesn't look like Ulkra has joined the fight yet. I'm sure she must be there.”
He sighed, then squeezed her hand back.
“Well, I'll go hold our table. Sweets will just ruin my figure. Looks like everybody's gonna have food before you.”
By the time Vua had received her food, however, every table was filled to capacity, emanating the boisterous conversation and animated social interactions that encroached on the human couple in the corner. Thus, rather than sit in the mess hall where they needed to shout to be heard, Vua took her food to go and the pair returned to her quarters where she ate little and few words were exchanged.
When they next spoke, 40 minutes later, it was Vua who broke the silence.
She had been facing the wall, just on the verge of falling asleep when she recognized a familiar feeling crawling up on her. It was one of the ones she associated with days that broke her routine – days very much like every day that she could recall on this ship. Almost never did she find herself engaging in the familiar activities that had composed her life on Tsiro, or even those that had carried over to her life at different postings. Instead, she was too busy, working, worrying, trying to keep up with Quasian. In fact, Quasian himself was an upset to ordinary life, though often a welcome one.
When the bombardment ended, there was no telling what would happen to them. Entirely likely, they would be separated; sent to different parts of the galaxy to continue working, most likely with limited contact, if any. Though it made the time more precious, it instilled an anxiety Vua could only circumnavigate by reminding herself that this had always been temporary.
“How long do you think we'll be here?”
“Hmm?”
Quasian rolled to face her, throwing an arm over her abdomen and scrunching up his face as though this question were the most difficult he had been asked in many years.
“Well, I'd say based on what I've observed in the past, we'll probably lie here until one of us falls asleep, then the other will get up to pee, then -”
“You know what I meant.”
Vua wasn't smiling, but Quasian smiled in spite of himself, pleased with the joke and sensing the warmness that leaked into Vua's voice, even when she attempted to be annoyed.
He shrugged.
“I dunno. Depends on how long it takes for the Trallions to realize they're hopelessly outnumbered. I can't imagine it will actually take them all that long to figure it out. Really just as soon as someone gets brave enough to walk outside and look up.”
Vua laid a hand over his and grunted. Then she rolled to face the wall once more, allowing his arm to stay wrapped around her like a heated blanket. She was feeling that guilt again – as though she were leading him on. It was always possible that her emotions sprung from nothing more than a like of having someone to lie down with. But then again, that was true for anyone.
Ah, well.
Vua closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the day press down on her head, relaxing the muscles in her neck, arms, and finally her shoulders and face. Warmth spread across the back of her head from Quasian's slow breathing, tickling the hairs there and tugging at the corner of Vua's mouth.
For several minutes they remained like this: warm, entangled, and rather comfortable. Or so Vua thought.
Once more, as she neared the brink of sleep, her thoughts were interrupted, this time by an offense that came from outside herself – from the mouth warming her ears and neck.
“How are you holding up out here?”
Though Vua heard the question loud and clear, she did not at once respond. Instead, she remained in the same position, her hand over his, wrapped up in one arm and comforted by the warm blankets and the blank space of wall.
The flat, slightly shiny, plain white before her eyes reminded her of her conversation with George earlier. The wall was the perfect size for the painting Leela had done – that is to say, there was nothing at all blocking that wall. Nearly a foot from the edge of her bed, there had been no room for a bedside table, and the door was placed a solid half meter from the end of the bed, leaving plenty of space to frame the edges of the work – if she were to hang it, that was.
Vua folded her hands together on her side, barely touching Quasian's arm.
She shrugged.
“Eh, fine.”
He scooted closer, slipping a second arm beneath her and placing his chin on her shoulder.
“You've been pretty distant. If you ever need to talk...”
But Vua had stopped listening; deep in her guts, she had felt a twinge, like someone may be walking by her quarters carrying a charm, or right on the cusp of finishing a spell in the next room. Whatever the case, something was using the Planar Arts, and it was close – too close for comfort. A little demon of a thought in the back of her mind reminded her that she had seen multiple apparitions in the last 24 hours. She tried to squash the thought, but the feeling in her gut intensified as it was joined by the prickling of suspicion. Now it was impossible to hold still.
Sitting up, Vua began to throw off the covers.
Quasian also sat up.
“I'm sorry to push,” he said sadly, “but Leela's right – you do seem a little tense. I hope I haven't gone too far.”
His eyes were sad, so Vua patted the hand supporting him on the mattress.
“No, you're fine. I'll be right back.”
Quasian looked far from convinced, but the temperature in the room had definitely dropped several degrees from when they had first come in. Goosebumps were beginning to rise on Vua's arms and legs as she stood and hugged herself, grabbing her sweater off the floor beside the bed.
She pulled on the underwear that had fallen off the foot along with the blankets and walked purposefully through the door into the main living space of her quarters.
And there it was. Another ghostly figure, a woman this time, with both arms outstretched as she attempted to reach for something Vua couldn't see. Upon Vua's entry the woman turned to face her, but before she could do anything, Vua was on top of her, crushing another bead within her abdomen. Feeling fairly practiced at this point, there was little hesitation in Vua's movements as she sprang. As the woman disappeared, however, something about her clicked in Vua's mind and she froze. Something was familiar.
It wasn't the face, not those eyes that spiraled away from her, banished to another plane of existence. Nor was it the species, for although she had been at least half-human there had been features of her face and arms that were distinctly of another world entirely, and one of the ones Vua had met fewer people from. But the uniform, that had been something she'd seen before. The uniform with the caduceus patch. Even after the woman had disappeared, the image of the patch was burned into her mind's eye, splotchy and white though it had been as it trickled back and forth, in and out of existence in Vua's reality. The woman had been a part of the Kingdom's fleet.
For a moment, Vua held stock still, standing over the pile of fine white dust as the last few particles drifted to the stained carpet. There was no sound in the room, no movement. Nothing of the ghostly woman remained and Vua was completely alone, as usual. And yet, nothing felt silent. The woman's appearance had instilled an unquiet in Vua's mind so loud that it was as though she were in the middle of the city below, listening to the missiles as they fell, smashing the buildings that had stood for hundreds of Ythacian seasons, destroying those who left the shelter of the safe houses. While the other spirits had hardly left Vua a second thought, the woman now set Vua's mind to recreating their images, attempting to reconcile gaps in her memory to determine if she had seen similarly familiar features that she ought to have recognized sooner. Perhaps they, too, had been a part of the fleet at one time or another. Were these the fallen from the bombardment, or were they just shadows of the current conflict, like an amalgamation of symbols and faces smashed together into an unclear image of a figure that did not really exist?
The research would have to wait. First, she had no idea how to gather information about the individuals haunting her. More importantly, however, she could hear Quasian cough in the next room, reminding her that she was not, in fact, alone at that moment. While the room felt a hollow shell, devoid of life, the small sounds from the bedroom served to remind her that there were other things happening in her life – other things deserving of her attention. Her questions would have to wait.
Dusting off her hands, Vua pulled herself from the scene, turning back toward the bedroom. Perhaps it was time to recruit George's assistance in ferreting out the trick behind the ghosts. Or perhaps she could wait until they had left the war zone and they would disappear. No, better to stop them now before they followed her to work, if it wasn't too late for that already. 12 hours can be a long time.
“Everything okay?”
Quasian was sitting up in bed, leaned over on one arm to support himself as he checked his ComD.
Vua could share with him right now, get his opinion, perhaps even set some of his fears to rest. This would be as good a time as any, as these opportunities rarely presented themselves.
As she thought it, she smiled to herself. Wouldn't that be nice.
He returned the smile as she sat back on the edge of the bed and swung her feet up under the covers.
“Yup. Fine.”
***
The thought made Vua bite her lip and relax slightly. Remembering that her partner's shift would be only just ending, Vua slowed her pace slightly. He wouldn't be able to beat her to the mess hall coming from main transportation engineering. The lifts were far too slow and too few – not to mention the malfunction in lift 1. There was time to gather her wits about her before going back into public.
Somehow, this offered little comfort. Though Vua knew she had all the time in the world, the adrenoline was pumping through her veins for the second time that afternoon. It was as though she couldn't quite grasp the idea that she need not hurry and instead found herself working just as frantically to pull on her shoes as she would have been if she were running ten minutes late for her own shift. The relaxation of just minutes ago had abandoned her body, leaving behind the sharp edges of agitation that gave way to her quick, seemingly efficient movements.
As she slipped on her second shoe with one hand, Vua clipped her ComD onto her belt with the other, tucking it carefully beneath the sweater where it would be most inconspicuous. As she straightened fully once more, she forced herself to pause, taking a deep breath. She was getting dinner – a thing everybody did every day. Moreover, it was with Quasian, the last person in the universe she need worry about interacting with.
Guiltily, the thought calmed her down more than it should have. He was a good guy – a good partner, and she liked him a lot. Now whether they would last as a couple, that was another question entirely and one she preferred not to dwell on.
She patted her ComD, the dogtags around her neck, feeling specifically for the wallet chip holding her ration points whenever the online system went dark, then for the plasma blade she'd been issued for when situations on scenes got hairy. Finding everything just where it should be, Vua glanced around one more time. Now that she had remembered exactly where she was going enough to stop herself from rushing, she found her feet dragging a little with the memory that she could have had this entire evening off if not for this meeting. That is, there was very little holding her back from creating some excuse and encoding it into a memo to Quasian with such a wording that it wouldn't be flagged in the system for its irrelevance to work. It would be simple to claim exhaustion – if for no other reason than it was true.
But the thought of the boy's disappointment stopped her. Not that Vua had anything against disappointing people, but a promise was a promise.
Her eyes completed the last sweep.
Nope – she definitely had everything.
Pushing her way out into the hall, Vua took no detours in her path for the engineering tube that took her to the mess hall and she passed almost no one in route. Haylee waved as they nearly collided at one corner, but she was the last person Vua saw before entering the mess hall.
In contrast to the crew quarters of deck three, the mess hall was packed. Their dinner plans appeared to coincide exactly with one of the major Kitsa shift changes, as the mess hall was flooded with individuals in uniforms sporting patches of the T-system and the seal of the Arvori ambassador from the Kitsa home world. While the tables appeared to have remained largely open, the large influx of people had formed a line to order food that backed up around the room and out the double doors leading to the main crew quarters on deck four.
Her heart sank as she spied Quasian in the back, seated near the windows with a bowl of something that steamed as he stirred the spoon in a circle, looking dreamily out into the void beyond.
As her eyes found him, however, his turned to notice her weaving her way through the chaos, fighting for a place in line. Although Quasian looked as though he were expecting her to come join him, Vua decided food should be her first priority. If she was here she was going to eat. Had they desired a purely social call they could have met up anywhere else.
Unfortunately, Vua quickly found she had underestimated the line. Several minutes after attatching herself to the end, just beyond the doors to the mess hall, she had moved perhaps ten feet: hardly an eighth of the way across the gigantic room. On top of that, she was finding herself jostled from every side, bumped back and forth unwittingly by the much larger people around her. They shifted back and forth on their many feet as they spoke excitedly to one another, somehow still filled with energy after a long, hard 60-hour shift. One stepped on Vua's foot at one point, but when he turned to apologize, he peered straight over her head for a solid three seconds before comprehending she was lower to the ground. He then proceeded to apologize profusely for both offenses until Vua had to smile and pat him on the back, assuring him that she was, (and truly she was), completely unhurt both physically and emotionally.
Satisfied, he saluted before turning back to the group he was chatting with, engaging once more with all the vigor of the conversation and Vua was left to herself, but not for long. Not a minute later, Quasian poked his way through the crowd, joining Vua in line.
“I thought I might come back for the dessert. And the company I suppose, if I must.”
Vua frowned.
“They serve dessert?”
Quasian shook his head.
“Well, sadly, I don't think that's changed.”
“Oh.”
The conversation lapsed into silence, broken only by the chatter of those around them. Vua broke the moment as she asked, “So... how was your day...?”
Quasian shrugged.
“It was fine. Portal 2 down on deck nine quit about an hour into my shift so I spent most of my day fixing that. Turns out some of the reconfiguring filters were malfunctioning, so the detector systems shut the whole thing down – and thank god. Can you imagine if someone had managed to get through that but got put back together wrong?”
“I hope my answer is never yes.”
“If that's the case then we both are gonna need some counseling for work-based incidents.”
“Yeah.”
Quasian shrugged, glancing around.
“How about you? Any interesting things happen today?”
But Vua was already shaking her head.
“Literally nothing. No calls.”
Quasian's eyebrows shot up.
“Wow. Yeah, that's really boring.”
“Tell me about it.”
He smiled, almost to himself, and looked down.
“Anything interesting happen otherwise? Did you try to do anything with your evening? I say try because I know better than to hope for success.”
Vua thought of the ghost on the engineering deck and shrugged.
“Nope. Nothing.”
Quasian smiled and took her hand.
“Well then, I have nothing to compete with for attention, do I?”
Vua smiled, but it didn't feel as heartfelt as she would have liked. Instead, she felt guilty, like she was leading him on when in fact she had less vested interest in their relationship than he.
“My LoScreen was pretty interesting.”
“Aaaahhhh, yes, I'm afraid I cannot play movies across my face, but I can set up a movie for you to watch on a big screen, if it pleases my lord.”
“Perhaps.”
The crowd moved forward several feet as one of the larger groups moved away from the front of the line, carrying food.
The movement distracted Vua from the conversation and she looked away from Quasian again. As her eyes slid away from the clasped hand she'd been staring at, her gaze was captured by the window, through which she could now see Ulkra, Ythac's moon, now so close as it passed for another orbit, yet so far away. She fancied she could see the city on the surface; shimmering, clear domes and tunnels where the citizens overlooked the green planet below, as encased in glass as the planet whirrled through the empty, star-dusted void. At that moment, they were watching, she was sure. Whenever the moon was turned properly and the view was lined up, they were all watching, breathless at the fiery display below.
Vua could imagine them all there, huddling together beneath one of the glass ceilings that she knew spotted the surface as they waited for the outcome of the assault.
In reality, little more than craters met her gaze. Features coated in glaciers and the occasional red dusting of iron ore. A fine mist hovered over it all; an atmosphere only capable of distorting the features of the landscape just enough to blur the lines from her eyes. It was impossible to distinguish one circular element from the central hall of the Ulkran city or the tiny fork of a glacial river from one of the tunnels.
“Do you think Nia's still there?”
In his eyes, Quasian held the compassion they had shared for one another since their first bonding over sibling on different, dangerous worlds. But he wasn't looking at Vua as he spoke. Instead, his eyes had, like hers, fixated themselves out the window on the small moon in plain sight. That look in his eyes reminded Vua that while she had received word on her sister a little over three weeks ago, Quasian hadn't heard of his sister for nearly three months.
Vua squeezed his hand.
“It doesn't look like Ulkra has joined the fight yet. I'm sure she must be there.”
He sighed, then squeezed her hand back.
“Well, I'll go hold our table. Sweets will just ruin my figure. Looks like everybody's gonna have food before you.”
By the time Vua had received her food, however, every table was filled to capacity, emanating the boisterous conversation and animated social interactions that encroached on the human couple in the corner. Thus, rather than sit in the mess hall where they needed to shout to be heard, Vua took her food to go and the pair returned to her quarters where she ate little and few words were exchanged.
When they next spoke, 40 minutes later, it was Vua who broke the silence.
She had been facing the wall, just on the verge of falling asleep when she recognized a familiar feeling crawling up on her. It was one of the ones she associated with days that broke her routine – days very much like every day that she could recall on this ship. Almost never did she find herself engaging in the familiar activities that had composed her life on Tsiro, or even those that had carried over to her life at different postings. Instead, she was too busy, working, worrying, trying to keep up with Quasian. In fact, Quasian himself was an upset to ordinary life, though often a welcome one.
When the bombardment ended, there was no telling what would happen to them. Entirely likely, they would be separated; sent to different parts of the galaxy to continue working, most likely with limited contact, if any. Though it made the time more precious, it instilled an anxiety Vua could only circumnavigate by reminding herself that this had always been temporary.
“How long do you think we'll be here?”
“Hmm?”
Quasian rolled to face her, throwing an arm over her abdomen and scrunching up his face as though this question were the most difficult he had been asked in many years.
“Well, I'd say based on what I've observed in the past, we'll probably lie here until one of us falls asleep, then the other will get up to pee, then -”
“You know what I meant.”
Vua wasn't smiling, but Quasian smiled in spite of himself, pleased with the joke and sensing the warmness that leaked into Vua's voice, even when she attempted to be annoyed.
He shrugged.
“I dunno. Depends on how long it takes for the Trallions to realize they're hopelessly outnumbered. I can't imagine it will actually take them all that long to figure it out. Really just as soon as someone gets brave enough to walk outside and look up.”
Vua laid a hand over his and grunted. Then she rolled to face the wall once more, allowing his arm to stay wrapped around her like a heated blanket. She was feeling that guilt again – as though she were leading him on. It was always possible that her emotions sprung from nothing more than a like of having someone to lie down with. But then again, that was true for anyone.
Ah, well.
Vua closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the day press down on her head, relaxing the muscles in her neck, arms, and finally her shoulders and face. Warmth spread across the back of her head from Quasian's slow breathing, tickling the hairs there and tugging at the corner of Vua's mouth.
For several minutes they remained like this: warm, entangled, and rather comfortable. Or so Vua thought.
Once more, as she neared the brink of sleep, her thoughts were interrupted, this time by an offense that came from outside herself – from the mouth warming her ears and neck.
“How are you holding up out here?”
Though Vua heard the question loud and clear, she did not at once respond. Instead, she remained in the same position, her hand over his, wrapped up in one arm and comforted by the warm blankets and the blank space of wall.
The flat, slightly shiny, plain white before her eyes reminded her of her conversation with George earlier. The wall was the perfect size for the painting Leela had done – that is to say, there was nothing at all blocking that wall. Nearly a foot from the edge of her bed, there had been no room for a bedside table, and the door was placed a solid half meter from the end of the bed, leaving plenty of space to frame the edges of the work – if she were to hang it, that was.
Vua folded her hands together on her side, barely touching Quasian's arm.
She shrugged.
“Eh, fine.”
He scooted closer, slipping a second arm beneath her and placing his chin on her shoulder.
“You've been pretty distant. If you ever need to talk...”
But Vua had stopped listening; deep in her guts, she had felt a twinge, like someone may be walking by her quarters carrying a charm, or right on the cusp of finishing a spell in the next room. Whatever the case, something was using the Planar Arts, and it was close – too close for comfort. A little demon of a thought in the back of her mind reminded her that she had seen multiple apparitions in the last 24 hours. She tried to squash the thought, but the feeling in her gut intensified as it was joined by the prickling of suspicion. Now it was impossible to hold still.
Sitting up, Vua began to throw off the covers.
Quasian also sat up.
“I'm sorry to push,” he said sadly, “but Leela's right – you do seem a little tense. I hope I haven't gone too far.”
His eyes were sad, so Vua patted the hand supporting him on the mattress.
“No, you're fine. I'll be right back.”
Quasian looked far from convinced, but the temperature in the room had definitely dropped several degrees from when they had first come in. Goosebumps were beginning to rise on Vua's arms and legs as she stood and hugged herself, grabbing her sweater off the floor beside the bed.
She pulled on the underwear that had fallen off the foot along with the blankets and walked purposefully through the door into the main living space of her quarters.
And there it was. Another ghostly figure, a woman this time, with both arms outstretched as she attempted to reach for something Vua couldn't see. Upon Vua's entry the woman turned to face her, but before she could do anything, Vua was on top of her, crushing another bead within her abdomen. Feeling fairly practiced at this point, there was little hesitation in Vua's movements as she sprang. As the woman disappeared, however, something about her clicked in Vua's mind and she froze. Something was familiar.
It wasn't the face, not those eyes that spiraled away from her, banished to another plane of existence. Nor was it the species, for although she had been at least half-human there had been features of her face and arms that were distinctly of another world entirely, and one of the ones Vua had met fewer people from. But the uniform, that had been something she'd seen before. The uniform with the caduceus patch. Even after the woman had disappeared, the image of the patch was burned into her mind's eye, splotchy and white though it had been as it trickled back and forth, in and out of existence in Vua's reality. The woman had been a part of the Kingdom's fleet.
For a moment, Vua held stock still, standing over the pile of fine white dust as the last few particles drifted to the stained carpet. There was no sound in the room, no movement. Nothing of the ghostly woman remained and Vua was completely alone, as usual. And yet, nothing felt silent. The woman's appearance had instilled an unquiet in Vua's mind so loud that it was as though she were in the middle of the city below, listening to the missiles as they fell, smashing the buildings that had stood for hundreds of Ythacian seasons, destroying those who left the shelter of the safe houses. While the other spirits had hardly left Vua a second thought, the woman now set Vua's mind to recreating their images, attempting to reconcile gaps in her memory to determine if she had seen similarly familiar features that she ought to have recognized sooner. Perhaps they, too, had been a part of the fleet at one time or another. Were these the fallen from the bombardment, or were they just shadows of the current conflict, like an amalgamation of symbols and faces smashed together into an unclear image of a figure that did not really exist?
The research would have to wait. First, she had no idea how to gather information about the individuals haunting her. More importantly, however, she could hear Quasian cough in the next room, reminding her that she was not, in fact, alone at that moment. While the room felt a hollow shell, devoid of life, the small sounds from the bedroom served to remind her that there were other things happening in her life – other things deserving of her attention. Her questions would have to wait.
Dusting off her hands, Vua pulled herself from the scene, turning back toward the bedroom. Perhaps it was time to recruit George's assistance in ferreting out the trick behind the ghosts. Or perhaps she could wait until they had left the war zone and they would disappear. No, better to stop them now before they followed her to work, if it wasn't too late for that already. 12 hours can be a long time.
“Everything okay?”
Quasian was sitting up in bed, leaned over on one arm to support himself as he checked his ComD.
Vua could share with him right now, get his opinion, perhaps even set some of his fears to rest. This would be as good a time as any, as these opportunities rarely presented themselves.
As she thought it, she smiled to herself. Wouldn't that be nice.
He returned the smile as she sat back on the edge of the bed and swung her feet up under the covers.
“Yup. Fine.”
***
SECTION 10
The questions about the ghostly origins didn't plague her long. Vua awoke the next morning to the incessant buzzing of her ComD on the floor beside the bed. In the moment, it had been thrown against the wall the night before where it now sat, vibrating intensely against the hard surface with a dream-shearing racket.
Beside her, Quasian groaned, adjusting the blankets on his shoulders as though he were trying to pull them over his head with very little success. Instead, he groaned again and sat up, crawling forward down to the foot of the bed.
At first, his actions confused Vua – partly due to the natural confusion of waking up suddenly. As she smashed at the buttons on her own device, however, the reasons behind his movement became apparent. While Vua's ComD had been quieted, the buzzing did not cease. Instead, it sounded further away, as though there were surround sound in the room.
As Quasian collapsed on the end of the bed, reaching his arms out to bat at something, it stopped, giving Vua a better understanding of what had been happening.
Flopping back up to the top of the bed where he could pull the covers back over his body, Quasian flipped through the messages on his device. As he read, his eyebrows pulled together and his face darkened. Turning to Vua, he nodded at her ComD, still on the floor where she'd left it.
“Did you get this?”
She shrugged, mumbling as she rolled over to retrieve it, “What?”
Quasian nodded to her device again.
“I'm not really comprehending this right now, but it sounds like our situation has changed out there. The Trallians hit back. Hard, too. You should read this.”
His voice was calm, but his eyes were worried. The couple exchanged a dark look as Vua pulled up the message, reading the tiny green writing on the screen.
Attention all crew members of the UFS Illiad, this is General Mgar of the Queen's Force,
At 0528 this morning, the UFS Killunger was disabled in an offensive strike by the people of Cur'Nyara. In this hostile maneuver, four warships have been disabled, six skinnies destroyed, 467 crew members lost, and nearly 500 injured. This attack has highlighted the hostility of the Trallian people and deemed our ship necessary on the front lines. As of 1800 tonight, the UFS Illiad will be reporting to low orbit of Ythac where counter measures will be taken in an effort to end the battle early before more lives are lost.
Expect scheduling changes and frequent emergency drills as we move toward battle positions. We thank you all for your efforts – the Queen appreciates your sacrifices.
As both parties read the announcement, Quasian scooted closer to Vua, taking her hand beneath the blankets. As she finished, they made eye contact.
“I guess this means no more days off.”
She nodded in agreement.
“What time is it?”
Nearly 0600. I'd bet the ship council must have just adjourned. We'll probably get called in at any moment to start the extended shifts. Isn't that the protocol?”
“I think. But we're not on the front lines until 1800.”
“Since when has that stopped them?”
“Hmm.”
Vua dropped her ComD off her side of the bed in favor of pulling the blankets up further. She wanted them as close to her chin as possible while she thought. Somehow, the warmth of the blankets was a comfortable barrier against... something. Really, hiding under a blanket did nothing. This had always been in the cards for the ship, she was sure, but now that it was on the verge of becoming a reality, it should feel different. And yet, strangely enough, Vua wasn't sure she was feeling much of anything at all. While she wanted the comfort of the blankets, the bed, and the warm body beside her, there was nothing she could point to that she needed the protection from.
“What are you thinking about?”
Quasian had also dropped his ComD, rolling to throw an arm over Vua again.
She shrugged.
“Breakfast. A shower.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Isn't Breat this week?”
Vua sighed.
“My Breat is in three days.”
The fingers on the arm draped across her rubbed her side a little – a semi-apreciated attempt at comfort.
“So Nia will be celebrating too then, huh?”
“And my parents.”
Though she wasn't looking at him, Vua was sure Quasian was smiling.
“How do you celebrate that if you aren't all together?”
“That's the point. It's supposed to bring people together. People will travel half way across the galaxy to Tsiro to see their families, and if they can't you light the candles and know that they are doing the same thing.”
Quasian made a sound like he would have whistled if he was capable.
“That's incredible. I haven't seen a candle since my grandmother passed away. She used to keep one around that Grandpa had synthesized for her. She coveted the thing – only brought it out when there was a big holiday, like the Hound Night or something.”
Vua nodded, listening but barely. Her thoughts had wandered to Nia's situation, and how she could possibly light candles with Ulkra so locked down. So far as she knew, they were attempting to hide the civilisation there – both from the Trallians and the Queens forces, as they had been commanded to remain strictly neutral to preserve relations with Ythac when the bombardment ended. They could only have red lights, last she had heard, and even those were limited – both to keep the Trallians from launching an attack and to keep the Queens forces from docking and thereby provoking an attack. As she comprehended Quasian's words, however, she turned to him to frown.
“What Night?”
He shrugged.
“Don't you celebrate Hound Night?”
Clearly having little idea what Hound Night entailed but feeling the prick of curiosity, Vua shook her head.
“No.”
Quasian fought back a beaming smile.
“Wow, I thought Hound Night was universal for humans. I don't know where the name came from, because it really sounds like it should be about dogs, but it's more about the hounds of Hell that come to drag people away on the darkest night of the year, which for us is about 50 hours of absolute pitch black. After that though it gets lighter and lighter until spring hits, but by then we're having days again too. The older traditions have you make as much light in your house as possible, because the hounds can't come into somewhere where there's light, so you're scaring them out of your yard. That was Grandma and Grandpa's generation though – now it's too wasteful with the energy crisis and stuff. We still scare the lop worms out of kids though. Lots of fun.”
Having no idea what lop worms were, Vua nodded her head, as though she understood the metaphor perfectly.
“No, we don't celebrate that. We don't really celebrate the darkest day of the year because we get black day once a week – Toxari blocks the sun. Most holidays are per the individual – every 360 waking cycles or something.”
“Like Breat?”
“Yeah.”
Vua sighed, tracing her finger in a circle on the blankets.
Quasian allowed the silence to fall for once, rolling back to stare up at the ceiling. There was nothing interesting there; only the darkness that still hung over the room. The screen light of Quasian's ComD shut off, leaving them in total darkness that stole their vision and veiled them from one another. The darkness hid Quasian's expression, but Vua wouldn't have noticed anyways. She was staring up at the ceiling again, back to thinking about Breat. Of course, she would have to celebrate, but now that she was going to be on shift at that time, the question was how much she would celebrate. The candles were stowed away in one of the drawers of the closet at the foot of the bed, easy enough to light, but there was nowhere she could put them that they would be visible by the sky.
She considered her window for a moment, but the smoke alarm was distrustfully close. There was always the dangerous chance that she would end up evacuating the entire section of deck three in a fire drill – a high social price to pay for a candle.
No, the fake candle would have to go in the window. She could light the others around the room, far from the smoke alarm, but they would have no purpose. They would not act as the pinpricks of light meant to be seen from light-years away. Not that they would have anyways, she reminded herself. The light may travel as far as Tsiro, but the chances that it would be detected by her family, who owned none of the equipment necessary for doing so, were small enough to be negligible.
When the conversation was renewed several minutes later, it had lost much of the vigor with which it had begun. Seeming to sense the line he had approached, Quasian backed off from his questioning and left Vua to her thoughts with only the occasional comment, serving to remind her of his presence. These comments were much less welcome, however, and it soon became clear that the conversation had died for the morning.
Vua was spared the awkward task of kicking quesian out by a message from his supervisor. Around 0700, long after the conversation had ceased to interest either of the parties involved, a vibrating interrupted what had become a very one-sided conversation, announcing the arrival of a memo requesting Quasian come into work nearly an hour and a half early.
Naturally, with no way to decline such a request, Quasian was gone within ten minutes of the message's reception and Vua found herself once again alone. This time, the change was welcomed rather than abhorred as it had been so often in the past. Rather than rise to breakfast as she had suspected of herself, Vua laid in bed, enjoying the moment of release from the stresses of life on the Illiad. For once, nothing compelled her to leave the warm comforts of her bed or felt as though it hung over her head, threatening at any moment to drop and ruin the delicate balance of her life.
To be sure, there were many such things about which she could have, and perhaps should have, been concerned, and perhaps in the back of her mind, she knew. For one, her scheduled day off was in danger. The weight of this morning's shipwide memo had not dissipated completely, but Vua managed to avoid these thoughts with the assistance of her LoScreen. It blessed her with a blissfully mindless morning, devoid of deep thought or reflection – exactly the type of morning she had been craving since boarding the the destroyer nearly two weeks prior. Even at dock, life aboard the Illiad had been filled with a constant bombardment of duties and worries that hung on her mind like the ballast of a ship on the water; it gave structure to her days, but failed to allow for the natural inclinations of her mind.
The distraction was short-lived, however. All too soon reality managed to find its way back into her stream of consciousness with the arrival of a soft knock, sounding on the outer door of Vua's quarters.
Though gentle, the sound interrupted the relaxing emptiness of her mind like a plasma blade to an energy grid and Vua jumped, unsuspecting of visitors.
Leaving the LoScreen where it sat, leaned against the pillows to allow for minimal effort of use, Vua rolled out of bed to pull on yesterday's clothes from their positions on the floor. They still smelled vaguely of rosemary – Vua's preferred deoderant. Thus, she shrugged, more for her own benefit than for anything, and pulled on just enough to make herself decent.
Vua was greeted pleasantly at the front door by the sight of Leela, aparently just off shift. Still in uniform, complete with dark circles beneath her many eyes, Leela smiled at the sight of Vua's equally disheveled form. It wasn't a happy smile; it held... regret? The look of Leela's eyes was that of one who had just learned of the passing of a friend or the loss of a homeworld.
“You read the memo? About the new situation?”
Even her voice, usually song-like and murmuring, came out flattened and defeated.
Vua frowned and nodded.
Leela tried to smile again.
“May I come in?”
Vua removed herself from the doorway, leaving enough room for her guest to pass into the small room.
The remnants of last night's mishap still laid on the floor, white powder splotch rubbed into the carpet in a way identical to the bedroom floor. Everything else appeared in order – which is to say, Vua had acquired no new belongings. The bookcase in here had a random assortment of items on it, none of which appeared to ever see use; the garbage was empty; exactly one plate sat on the shelving above the bar-table.
Leela paid none of it heed. Instead of walking past Vua, Leela held out her arms and waited for the other woman to step into them.
For a moment, Vua attempted to comprehend the situation. As her exhausted brain caught up, it dawned on her that her friend was awaiting a hug. Confused, Vua obliged.
“Gosh, you look like you haven't slept. Did you just get up?”
Leela whispered in Vua's ear with seemingly inappropriate emotion.
“Just,” was the confirmation. Then, “Do you need to lie down?”
“My goodness, yes, more than ever.”
And with that, both women crawled back into bed, fully dressed, where they planted themselves, albeit actively, for the next forty minutes. Only when Leela's eyes began to tear did they actually relax, however.
Vua gave her a questioning look, meant to give the essence of questioning the origins of her friend's emotional state. Leela, being herself, understood immediately and sighed. Through a sob, she nodded then, thinking better of it, shook her head and sobbed again.
“No.”
She broke down, pulling at the blanket until it came up to her chin, much as Vua had found herself doing not a few hours before. The similarity gave her something of an insight and she felt a twinge for her partner. Unable to find the appropriate words to express the feeling, however, she felt a sinking, depressing feeling in her stomach that reminded her how outside of regular life she lived. In an attempt to quell the unpleasant rising in her gut, Vua contented herself with speech – an action even she felt shocked by.
“What's wrong?”
Leela shook her head.
“We-well, nothing really, but, yet, I mean...”
Giving a graceful gesture at the window behind the bed, she shrugged, but the context spoke to the action and Vua nodded in agreement.
“I've been on one of those ships,” Leela continued, pointing more aggressively out the window. “I was on it before it left dock – that could have been me. That may still be me. Or you. Or someone we know. Maybe we even knew someone out there, but we've forgotten them now and we'll never know they died out there.”
Several of her eyes flickered back and forth nervously, but the remaining ones remained intently fixed on Vua's face, trying with a laser-like force to instill the emotion in Vua's mind.
But the blank look on Vua's face gave her pause and Leela took a deep breath, calming herself slightly.
“I suppose I'm just realizing now how completely unprepared I feel to be part of the actual conflict, you know? I think back on Yuh'at even, it was so much... simpler to be enlisted. I felt like I was helping my people and my queen but I never felt threatened – at least not like this.”
Vua closed her eyes.
“It's going to be okay. We're on a destroyer. Even if they targeted just this ship, they won't take it down.”
Leela nodded, grateful for the comfort, but remained visibly upset.
“What about when you're working inter-ship emergencies?”
Vua bit her lip.
“Scene safety is a top priority. They won't send the med force anywhere they can't get us back. I'm not very useful to them dead or injured.”
Leela nodded again, looking slightly more relaxed.
“I hope you're right about that. I guess they do worry about losing the people who are going to fix their other people. The med force would be a valuable resource in conflict...”
Her fingers groped for Vua's hand, and for the second time that morning, Vua lay in her bed with a partner, staring at the ceiling and holding hands, disturbingly close to considering the possible directions of the future.
***
Beside her, Quasian groaned, adjusting the blankets on his shoulders as though he were trying to pull them over his head with very little success. Instead, he groaned again and sat up, crawling forward down to the foot of the bed.
At first, his actions confused Vua – partly due to the natural confusion of waking up suddenly. As she smashed at the buttons on her own device, however, the reasons behind his movement became apparent. While Vua's ComD had been quieted, the buzzing did not cease. Instead, it sounded further away, as though there were surround sound in the room.
As Quasian collapsed on the end of the bed, reaching his arms out to bat at something, it stopped, giving Vua a better understanding of what had been happening.
Flopping back up to the top of the bed where he could pull the covers back over his body, Quasian flipped through the messages on his device. As he read, his eyebrows pulled together and his face darkened. Turning to Vua, he nodded at her ComD, still on the floor where she'd left it.
“Did you get this?”
She shrugged, mumbling as she rolled over to retrieve it, “What?”
Quasian nodded to her device again.
“I'm not really comprehending this right now, but it sounds like our situation has changed out there. The Trallians hit back. Hard, too. You should read this.”
His voice was calm, but his eyes were worried. The couple exchanged a dark look as Vua pulled up the message, reading the tiny green writing on the screen.
Attention all crew members of the UFS Illiad, this is General Mgar of the Queen's Force,
At 0528 this morning, the UFS Killunger was disabled in an offensive strike by the people of Cur'Nyara. In this hostile maneuver, four warships have been disabled, six skinnies destroyed, 467 crew members lost, and nearly 500 injured. This attack has highlighted the hostility of the Trallian people and deemed our ship necessary on the front lines. As of 1800 tonight, the UFS Illiad will be reporting to low orbit of Ythac where counter measures will be taken in an effort to end the battle early before more lives are lost.
Expect scheduling changes and frequent emergency drills as we move toward battle positions. We thank you all for your efforts – the Queen appreciates your sacrifices.
As both parties read the announcement, Quasian scooted closer to Vua, taking her hand beneath the blankets. As she finished, they made eye contact.
“I guess this means no more days off.”
She nodded in agreement.
“What time is it?”
Nearly 0600. I'd bet the ship council must have just adjourned. We'll probably get called in at any moment to start the extended shifts. Isn't that the protocol?”
“I think. But we're not on the front lines until 1800.”
“Since when has that stopped them?”
“Hmm.”
Vua dropped her ComD off her side of the bed in favor of pulling the blankets up further. She wanted them as close to her chin as possible while she thought. Somehow, the warmth of the blankets was a comfortable barrier against... something. Really, hiding under a blanket did nothing. This had always been in the cards for the ship, she was sure, but now that it was on the verge of becoming a reality, it should feel different. And yet, strangely enough, Vua wasn't sure she was feeling much of anything at all. While she wanted the comfort of the blankets, the bed, and the warm body beside her, there was nothing she could point to that she needed the protection from.
“What are you thinking about?”
Quasian had also dropped his ComD, rolling to throw an arm over Vua again.
She shrugged.
“Breakfast. A shower.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Isn't Breat this week?”
Vua sighed.
“My Breat is in three days.”
The fingers on the arm draped across her rubbed her side a little – a semi-apreciated attempt at comfort.
“So Nia will be celebrating too then, huh?”
“And my parents.”
Though she wasn't looking at him, Vua was sure Quasian was smiling.
“How do you celebrate that if you aren't all together?”
“That's the point. It's supposed to bring people together. People will travel half way across the galaxy to Tsiro to see their families, and if they can't you light the candles and know that they are doing the same thing.”
Quasian made a sound like he would have whistled if he was capable.
“That's incredible. I haven't seen a candle since my grandmother passed away. She used to keep one around that Grandpa had synthesized for her. She coveted the thing – only brought it out when there was a big holiday, like the Hound Night or something.”
Vua nodded, listening but barely. Her thoughts had wandered to Nia's situation, and how she could possibly light candles with Ulkra so locked down. So far as she knew, they were attempting to hide the civilisation there – both from the Trallians and the Queens forces, as they had been commanded to remain strictly neutral to preserve relations with Ythac when the bombardment ended. They could only have red lights, last she had heard, and even those were limited – both to keep the Trallians from launching an attack and to keep the Queens forces from docking and thereby provoking an attack. As she comprehended Quasian's words, however, she turned to him to frown.
“What Night?”
He shrugged.
“Don't you celebrate Hound Night?”
Clearly having little idea what Hound Night entailed but feeling the prick of curiosity, Vua shook her head.
“No.”
Quasian fought back a beaming smile.
“Wow, I thought Hound Night was universal for humans. I don't know where the name came from, because it really sounds like it should be about dogs, but it's more about the hounds of Hell that come to drag people away on the darkest night of the year, which for us is about 50 hours of absolute pitch black. After that though it gets lighter and lighter until spring hits, but by then we're having days again too. The older traditions have you make as much light in your house as possible, because the hounds can't come into somewhere where there's light, so you're scaring them out of your yard. That was Grandma and Grandpa's generation though – now it's too wasteful with the energy crisis and stuff. We still scare the lop worms out of kids though. Lots of fun.”
Having no idea what lop worms were, Vua nodded her head, as though she understood the metaphor perfectly.
“No, we don't celebrate that. We don't really celebrate the darkest day of the year because we get black day once a week – Toxari blocks the sun. Most holidays are per the individual – every 360 waking cycles or something.”
“Like Breat?”
“Yeah.”
Vua sighed, tracing her finger in a circle on the blankets.
Quasian allowed the silence to fall for once, rolling back to stare up at the ceiling. There was nothing interesting there; only the darkness that still hung over the room. The screen light of Quasian's ComD shut off, leaving them in total darkness that stole their vision and veiled them from one another. The darkness hid Quasian's expression, but Vua wouldn't have noticed anyways. She was staring up at the ceiling again, back to thinking about Breat. Of course, she would have to celebrate, but now that she was going to be on shift at that time, the question was how much she would celebrate. The candles were stowed away in one of the drawers of the closet at the foot of the bed, easy enough to light, but there was nowhere she could put them that they would be visible by the sky.
She considered her window for a moment, but the smoke alarm was distrustfully close. There was always the dangerous chance that she would end up evacuating the entire section of deck three in a fire drill – a high social price to pay for a candle.
No, the fake candle would have to go in the window. She could light the others around the room, far from the smoke alarm, but they would have no purpose. They would not act as the pinpricks of light meant to be seen from light-years away. Not that they would have anyways, she reminded herself. The light may travel as far as Tsiro, but the chances that it would be detected by her family, who owned none of the equipment necessary for doing so, were small enough to be negligible.
When the conversation was renewed several minutes later, it had lost much of the vigor with which it had begun. Seeming to sense the line he had approached, Quasian backed off from his questioning and left Vua to her thoughts with only the occasional comment, serving to remind her of his presence. These comments were much less welcome, however, and it soon became clear that the conversation had died for the morning.
Vua was spared the awkward task of kicking quesian out by a message from his supervisor. Around 0700, long after the conversation had ceased to interest either of the parties involved, a vibrating interrupted what had become a very one-sided conversation, announcing the arrival of a memo requesting Quasian come into work nearly an hour and a half early.
Naturally, with no way to decline such a request, Quasian was gone within ten minutes of the message's reception and Vua found herself once again alone. This time, the change was welcomed rather than abhorred as it had been so often in the past. Rather than rise to breakfast as she had suspected of herself, Vua laid in bed, enjoying the moment of release from the stresses of life on the Illiad. For once, nothing compelled her to leave the warm comforts of her bed or felt as though it hung over her head, threatening at any moment to drop and ruin the delicate balance of her life.
To be sure, there were many such things about which she could have, and perhaps should have, been concerned, and perhaps in the back of her mind, she knew. For one, her scheduled day off was in danger. The weight of this morning's shipwide memo had not dissipated completely, but Vua managed to avoid these thoughts with the assistance of her LoScreen. It blessed her with a blissfully mindless morning, devoid of deep thought or reflection – exactly the type of morning she had been craving since boarding the the destroyer nearly two weeks prior. Even at dock, life aboard the Illiad had been filled with a constant bombardment of duties and worries that hung on her mind like the ballast of a ship on the water; it gave structure to her days, but failed to allow for the natural inclinations of her mind.
The distraction was short-lived, however. All too soon reality managed to find its way back into her stream of consciousness with the arrival of a soft knock, sounding on the outer door of Vua's quarters.
Though gentle, the sound interrupted the relaxing emptiness of her mind like a plasma blade to an energy grid and Vua jumped, unsuspecting of visitors.
Leaving the LoScreen where it sat, leaned against the pillows to allow for minimal effort of use, Vua rolled out of bed to pull on yesterday's clothes from their positions on the floor. They still smelled vaguely of rosemary – Vua's preferred deoderant. Thus, she shrugged, more for her own benefit than for anything, and pulled on just enough to make herself decent.
Vua was greeted pleasantly at the front door by the sight of Leela, aparently just off shift. Still in uniform, complete with dark circles beneath her many eyes, Leela smiled at the sight of Vua's equally disheveled form. It wasn't a happy smile; it held... regret? The look of Leela's eyes was that of one who had just learned of the passing of a friend or the loss of a homeworld.
“You read the memo? About the new situation?”
Even her voice, usually song-like and murmuring, came out flattened and defeated.
Vua frowned and nodded.
Leela tried to smile again.
“May I come in?”
Vua removed herself from the doorway, leaving enough room for her guest to pass into the small room.
The remnants of last night's mishap still laid on the floor, white powder splotch rubbed into the carpet in a way identical to the bedroom floor. Everything else appeared in order – which is to say, Vua had acquired no new belongings. The bookcase in here had a random assortment of items on it, none of which appeared to ever see use; the garbage was empty; exactly one plate sat on the shelving above the bar-table.
Leela paid none of it heed. Instead of walking past Vua, Leela held out her arms and waited for the other woman to step into them.
For a moment, Vua attempted to comprehend the situation. As her exhausted brain caught up, it dawned on her that her friend was awaiting a hug. Confused, Vua obliged.
“Gosh, you look like you haven't slept. Did you just get up?”
Leela whispered in Vua's ear with seemingly inappropriate emotion.
“Just,” was the confirmation. Then, “Do you need to lie down?”
“My goodness, yes, more than ever.”
And with that, both women crawled back into bed, fully dressed, where they planted themselves, albeit actively, for the next forty minutes. Only when Leela's eyes began to tear did they actually relax, however.
Vua gave her a questioning look, meant to give the essence of questioning the origins of her friend's emotional state. Leela, being herself, understood immediately and sighed. Through a sob, she nodded then, thinking better of it, shook her head and sobbed again.
“No.”
She broke down, pulling at the blanket until it came up to her chin, much as Vua had found herself doing not a few hours before. The similarity gave her something of an insight and she felt a twinge for her partner. Unable to find the appropriate words to express the feeling, however, she felt a sinking, depressing feeling in her stomach that reminded her how outside of regular life she lived. In an attempt to quell the unpleasant rising in her gut, Vua contented herself with speech – an action even she felt shocked by.
“What's wrong?”
Leela shook her head.
“We-well, nothing really, but, yet, I mean...”
Giving a graceful gesture at the window behind the bed, she shrugged, but the context spoke to the action and Vua nodded in agreement.
“I've been on one of those ships,” Leela continued, pointing more aggressively out the window. “I was on it before it left dock – that could have been me. That may still be me. Or you. Or someone we know. Maybe we even knew someone out there, but we've forgotten them now and we'll never know they died out there.”
Several of her eyes flickered back and forth nervously, but the remaining ones remained intently fixed on Vua's face, trying with a laser-like force to instill the emotion in Vua's mind.
But the blank look on Vua's face gave her pause and Leela took a deep breath, calming herself slightly.
“I suppose I'm just realizing now how completely unprepared I feel to be part of the actual conflict, you know? I think back on Yuh'at even, it was so much... simpler to be enlisted. I felt like I was helping my people and my queen but I never felt threatened – at least not like this.”
Vua closed her eyes.
“It's going to be okay. We're on a destroyer. Even if they targeted just this ship, they won't take it down.”
Leela nodded, grateful for the comfort, but remained visibly upset.
“What about when you're working inter-ship emergencies?”
Vua bit her lip.
“Scene safety is a top priority. They won't send the med force anywhere they can't get us back. I'm not very useful to them dead or injured.”
Leela nodded again, looking slightly more relaxed.
“I hope you're right about that. I guess they do worry about losing the people who are going to fix their other people. The med force would be a valuable resource in conflict...”
Her fingers groped for Vua's hand, and for the second time that morning, Vua lay in her bed with a partner, staring at the ceiling and holding hands, disturbingly close to considering the possible directions of the future.
***
Section 11
Despite heightened anxieties about the coming deployment, the start of Vua's shift remained largely uneventful. The first three hours were spent in a state of boredom as Vua had rarely experienced anywhere but on shift. Rightfully, the time should have been spent in deeper thought, but instead Vua wrote more of her letters to Nia and Orilla, filling the lines with the empty sentiments that can only be appreciated by the family of a loved one in danger. After the first two pages had been finished, however, the activity lost its appeal. Vua found herself instead staring at the lines of script, scouring her mind for something she could say and finding only the black velvet seams of her imagination. The letters hardly felt heartfelt anymore, given the degree of leeway she had given herself in interpreting the details of the situation. Thus, she surrendered, exiling herself to the comforts of watching the conversations of her coworkers while sparing herself the agony of investing in them.
Many of them had long ago grown tired of their multireaders, turning instead to one another to discuss the more disturbing possibilities approaching. The harsh truth was that little would change for the emergency medical staff. Every member of the team had experience dealing with traumatic wounds, be it from accidents on their home worlds or the accidents of the crew members aboard the UFS Illiad. If anything, they may become more busy, but the nature of the on board emergencies would be little changed.
As Vua watched the nearest group, Evers and Tira, the conversation progressed first toward the dangers of the inter-ship emergencies. There was always a greater baseline possibility for danger, but being closer to the front lines would undoubtedly raise that baseline much more. There simply wasn't an equal opportunity way to choose staff for inter-ship emergencies. If the Illiad was responding to another ship, that meant the med deck of the endangered ship was non-operational, providing almost no help for the med crew and, usually, that the ship was in grave danger.
Thankfully for Vua's mind, the conversation didn't stick to the serious subjects for long. Evers was hardly one to stick to a topic for more than fifteen minutes and ten minutes in the subject had switched to something lighthearted – meaning something Vua had ceased to pay attention to. Still, she continued to listen, enjoying the insights without provoking the question of her own opinion.
Evers was, naturally, the first to catch onto her game.
Moving slightly from his position on the bench, he positioned himself such that he could look back and forth between Vua and Tira. The natural effect of Evers' new position was that Vua was drawn into the conversation a fact of which she was hardly a fan.
“I didn't try cooking one yet because I was afraid they'd blow up and I'd lose privileges to private quarters.”
Tira scoffed at his complaint.
“Quarters of your own? Princess, please. They've left me to rot with this lot.”
She jammed a thumb at a group of coworkers who responded with friendly smiles and waves.
“Do you have any idea how much Aerin farts?” she continued.
Aerin turned and nodded in solemn agreement.
Evers shrugged.
“I guess Vua and I are the only ones special enough to deserve quarters of our own, ay?”
He looked over at Vua, as if expecting a positive response, but he got one of her usual reactions. She shrugged noncommittally, leaning back against the wall in an obvious attempt to slink back out of the conversation. She was not allowed to go quietly.
“Well, I suppose they have to support the people they've ditched on here somehow. I mean, Vua, you've been on since before Wir-5, right? And you were part of the original skeleton crew when they pulled the ship from the scrapyard.”
The last portion was directed at Evers who nodded and opened his mouth, but for once, Vua was the first to respond.
“They don't trust me to play nice with roommates.”
Evers recovered with a hearty laugh.
“I don't expect you to play nice with anyone.”
Vua picked up her writing pad again, attempting to look occupied while putting in as little effort as possible.
But Evers wasn't going to let her get away that easily.
“Staring at nothing again?”
Evers was looking at her, deadpanned.
“Don't worry, we've all been there,” he continued. “But usually we're pretty shameless about it.”
Vua raised an eyebrow.
“Well I wasn't going to tell you you were boring.”
“How kind.”
Vua shrugged, going back to her pad, but the activity was now completely ruined. She sighed.
Evers looked on the verge of retort, but before he got his chance, he was interrupted by an incessant buzzing. Pausing half way through opening his mouth, Evers pulled out his ComD. Vua's examination of his reaction was blocked by the pull of her attention to her own ComD. Her eyes were pulled to the page icon where it appeared, front and center, flashing angrily for her attention.
“Bleeding problem – deck two?”
Upon comprehension of the question in Vua's voice, Evers looked up to shrug.
“Beats me. I don't know why anyone would be bleeding in their office, but thankfully that's not what they pay me for. Shall we?”
Tira waved a hand at the pair and turned to join the conversation off to her other side.
“Be safe, guys – good luck,” she gave before turning her back completely.
Her presence was not missed. The team was already up and moving, med kits in hand, to the portal room just to the side of the room. Andrian, Kerri, and Lisa had stood too, grabbing their stuff to trot along behind the pair as they approached the portal. Despite the lack of intensity in the groups pace, Vua could feel the eyes of some of her coworkers on her as she moved, as though the sheer mention of such a substance's existence in that area of the ship were positively unthinkable. Several conversations paused long enough for their participants to wish the crew luck, but hardly a moment longer. As soon as their wishes for the crew had been acknowledged, the well-wishers immediately moved to the much more interesting subject: what sort of a paper cut could constitute a bleeding problem in one of the ship's offices?
Evers reached the door first. Tapping his ComD to the pad, a light above the door winked blue, sliding open.
Inside, the eerie glow of portals lit the space, spilling their green light across the floor like a carpet, thick enough only to be observed. Though there were lights in the room, they had been turned down to minimum illumination of blue to avoid emitting enough radiation in the wavelengths most painful to the Ooainean portal tech stationed before them.
A soft membrane enclosed her organs, pulsating here and there as the substances within spun in complex patterns, generating the intricate thought within. The intricacies of her biology matched that of the computer before her. Like her, it blinked with mysterious symbols, sometimes going blank for periods of time when the screen switched to the ultraviolet colors the human crew couldn't detect.
“I've sent you each a map of deck two, section three. You should be seeing it soon on your ComD.” Her face hardly changed shape as she spoke. Instead, several small colors flashed across the blank space there, followed by ripples that would have expressed extra details to another Ooainean but were lost on the human crew.
She saw the look on Vua's face as the human woman inspected the empty screen of her ComD to determine it's uselessness.
“Oh, it didn't come through? Here, let me resend that...”
Several more seconds of blinking on the woman's computer screen and Vua's ComD buzzed yet again, revealing a simple, bare bones map of the halls leading from one room to another.
“Got it,” said Vua, looking it over with excessive care. “Thanks.”
“Looks like your best access is going to be to just take a right out the door and it'll be the fourth door on your left. Dispatch put a note here that someone's going to meet you at the door. Which door that would be, though, I have no idea.”
Kerri nodded. “Classic.”
“That's essentially what I told them.”
The portal seated in front of the tech was emitting a blueish color now, several of the mysterious bar graphs and lights set into its frame blinking to indicate things far too advanced for the medical crew to guess at. Far more advanced than the language of fart jokes they exchanged in the med tech room.
“All pulled up. Whenever you're ready.”
Andrian nodded his head to the portal. “Mind if I take lead on this one?”
“I would love nothing more than to let you write every chart today.”
“Be my guest!”
“Yeah man, go for it!”
“I don't care.”
Taking the cue embedded in the last response, Andrian nodded to the group, muttering some kind of thanks, and stepped through the portal. He was gleefully followed by Evers, who seemed far too excited about getting a call, then Kerri. Vua waited a short moment after Kerri's heel disappeared to take a quick step through the swirling blue.
Warmth trickled over her skin where she touched the edges of the portal to emerge on the other side. Vua stumbled as her gut rematerialized, upset by the disturbance, and she felt her heart skip a beat or two as it was pieced back together by the recompiler. She dropped her bag for a moment after stepping away to take a deep breath. Everything had returned to normal, but now the adrenaline of portal travel was hitting her as her body attempted to comprehend what insidious thing she had just done.
Evers had grabbed the transportation bag off the wall of the room and was just passing from her view out the door, following Andrian.
Picking up her bag again, Vua trotted after them, followed a moment later by the gasping of Lisa as she, too, attempted to recover quickly from the short trip.
“Phew!” she called to Vua as she stumbled up behind her. “At least that was a short one.”
“Amen to that.”
But that was all that was said before they reached the door.
“Hello, sir, my name is Andrian and we're gonna get you to the hospital deck,” was the first thing Vua heard from inside.
As she rounded the door frame, she nearly tripped on Andrian, who was kneeling in front of a massive man, apparently half Xyt, who was curled up on the floor beside the door, as if he had been dumped there like a mining sack.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Andrian was trying to ask, but the man seemed hardly as though he would be giving responses. It wasn't for lack of trying. Several moans with some consonants mixed in escaped him, but if they were in one of the human languages, Vua couldn't tell.
Though nothing appeared to be missing, and no distinct wounds could be seen from Vua's vantage point, a growing pool was spreading across an expensive carpet below him accompanied by the drip dripping of a hidden wound. But the growth of the pool was slow – enough so that it gave away how long it had taken for the ship's emergency services to be contacted.
She could see several people now, all standing before them, hardly batting an eye at the scene before them. Many of them were wearing the typical uniforms of the rest of the crew, but several had been allowed to dress in regular, home world formal wear that highlighted their importance.
“His volume is at 4.45 liters,” announced Kerri, squinting at a screen laid into the Anning Device she had strapped to the man's upper arm. “Heart rate 120, satting at 97 percent, and blood pressure is... 118 over 64.”
“Four four five, 120, and was that 97?”
Vua scribbled the numbers on her glove, using the care report pen. The letters appeared neatly on the pen's screen as she wrote them, shimmering on the side of the pen until she placed the period.
“And one one eight over six four,” finished Kerri.
“What's the TTC number?”
“We've got 25 minutes.”
“Phew, well we won't need all that,” Evers sighed with relief.
“Nope! I've got the transfusions here, what does he need?” Lisa had squeezed past Vua and was ripping the top off her bag.
“Looks like... B negative?” Kerri questioned. “Huh, it shifted for a moment there but looks like it's for sure B negative.”
The man shifted and Vua could see the wound now. If this was a paper cut, it was the worst of its kind. This man was missing part of his right hand. Severed straight through, it looked as though someone had taken a sword and sliced diagonally clean across the palm. Only part of his index finger and his thumb remained, attached precariously to the stump of a hand.
Andrian had given up on asking questions and had begun inspecting the man for further injury.
“What happened?”
Evers' question was directed at the group of people who appeared to be going back to some kind of a business meeting.
“An accident.”
The speaker was of average height. Several blemishes on his face spoke of the brave battle had had fought against a childhood illness – small pockets of red dotting his neck in the characteristic pattern of the Hight Fever that had swept the queen's planet in an earlier time. Though humans were one of the smaller races aboard the Illiad, it appeared to have been his human parent that granted him the ability to stand more than eight inches above the height of the table. In fact, if the man had any less muscle on him, or any fewer inches in his legs, Vua would have called him small – scrawny in fact.
And yet, despite what would have been deficiencies for any other commanding officer, Vua couldn't help but know in her heart that this man was very much in charge of everything happening within this room. And on this deck. And on this ship. And probably on the battlefield at that moment, even though he couldn't really see it.
“Could you be more specific?”
Evers' new question brought Vua back from her inspection of the man she had never seen in person, refocusing her attention on the pen dangling in her hand. Scribbling down a chief complaint and several demographics, she took a few steps closer to Evers, who had busied himself setting up the transport gurney while addressing the room.
“Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this injury speaks for itself.”
Vua couldn't help herself. “So I take it this was not done by Parphric Steel or anything that could have touched anything else; probably sliced in a sterile environment with surgical precision and zero risk of infection?”
The warning practically rolled off Evers in waves as he turned to look at his partner, wide eyed, but slightly amused. Vua herself wasn't entirely sure where this attitude had come from, but now that it reared its ugly head, there was little she could do to put it back in the box. But probably she could find a way to tame it. A little. Probably.
“Officer, if you have a problem with something I suggest you make a report to your superior. This man needs attention, and this council urgently needs to reconvene.”
“This will require a medical investigation,” she responded, shaking her head slightly. “Being that this man is not in the field at the moment and due to the likely mechanisms, I am a required reporter for this.”
But the general only nodded and turned back to his audience to shrug, as though he could hardly believe the insolence of the drafted members of the crew he'd been given.
Vua gritted her teeth and made a note on her glove, mostly about the obscurity of the situation, followed by a request for a medical investigation.
“Lonas, is the stretcher ready?” Andrian had turned away from the tourniquet he'd placed on the patient's arm to check in with the rest of the crew.
“You better believe it.”
“I love it. Okay let's get this guy rolling.”
Andrian turned back to the guy, who was now whimpering in pain, holding his arm.
“Did we need that?” whispered Lisa to Vua.
But Vua just shrugged.
“Did you happen to catch the time for the tourniquet?” She readied her pen as she spoke.
“Yeah, 1325.”
“Copy, one three two five. Got it.”
“Okay sir, we're gonna help you get up and we're gonna move onto that bed right there, got it? Okay everybody ready? One, two, th-ugh.”
Little thought appeared to have been given to the actual weight of their patient, but as soon as he stood, it became clear that the exoskeleton that served him so well elsewhere was going to be a little bit of a hindrance.
After several curses, some shuffling, and a couple hisses from pokes, the man was curled up on the stretcher.
“Are we gonna fit through doors like that?”
Evers bit his lip. “I think so. We'll just have to go slow.”
A portal tech had appeared at the door, denoted only by the patch on the right side of her uniform.
“Trauma start,” muttered Andrian to the tech. Then to Vua, “You still got that pen?”
She tossed it to him then took a position at the feet of the gurney to guide it out of the room, not failing to give the general one last good glance to let him know exactly how she felt.
The feeling was left without being expressed, however. The general made no attempt to meet her gaze, instead focusing on a chart he had pulled up on the screen at the front of the room.
It didn't bother her too much. Which is to say, there was an insatiable wish to throw something at the man that dogged her all afternoon, but it was exiled to the back of her mind, replaced by the problem solving aspects of getting their patient to the hospital deck, giving report, then throwing all of her time into doing as little as possible on her multireader while looking mildly productive. The effect was that few people asked her about the call. Instead, they focused their attentions on the rest of the team, begging for any small details about the deck that lay so forbidden.
Many of them had long ago grown tired of their multireaders, turning instead to one another to discuss the more disturbing possibilities approaching. The harsh truth was that little would change for the emergency medical staff. Every member of the team had experience dealing with traumatic wounds, be it from accidents on their home worlds or the accidents of the crew members aboard the UFS Illiad. If anything, they may become more busy, but the nature of the on board emergencies would be little changed.
As Vua watched the nearest group, Evers and Tira, the conversation progressed first toward the dangers of the inter-ship emergencies. There was always a greater baseline possibility for danger, but being closer to the front lines would undoubtedly raise that baseline much more. There simply wasn't an equal opportunity way to choose staff for inter-ship emergencies. If the Illiad was responding to another ship, that meant the med deck of the endangered ship was non-operational, providing almost no help for the med crew and, usually, that the ship was in grave danger.
Thankfully for Vua's mind, the conversation didn't stick to the serious subjects for long. Evers was hardly one to stick to a topic for more than fifteen minutes and ten minutes in the subject had switched to something lighthearted – meaning something Vua had ceased to pay attention to. Still, she continued to listen, enjoying the insights without provoking the question of her own opinion.
Evers was, naturally, the first to catch onto her game.
Moving slightly from his position on the bench, he positioned himself such that he could look back and forth between Vua and Tira. The natural effect of Evers' new position was that Vua was drawn into the conversation a fact of which she was hardly a fan.
“I didn't try cooking one yet because I was afraid they'd blow up and I'd lose privileges to private quarters.”
Tira scoffed at his complaint.
“Quarters of your own? Princess, please. They've left me to rot with this lot.”
She jammed a thumb at a group of coworkers who responded with friendly smiles and waves.
“Do you have any idea how much Aerin farts?” she continued.
Aerin turned and nodded in solemn agreement.
Evers shrugged.
“I guess Vua and I are the only ones special enough to deserve quarters of our own, ay?”
He looked over at Vua, as if expecting a positive response, but he got one of her usual reactions. She shrugged noncommittally, leaning back against the wall in an obvious attempt to slink back out of the conversation. She was not allowed to go quietly.
“Well, I suppose they have to support the people they've ditched on here somehow. I mean, Vua, you've been on since before Wir-5, right? And you were part of the original skeleton crew when they pulled the ship from the scrapyard.”
The last portion was directed at Evers who nodded and opened his mouth, but for once, Vua was the first to respond.
“They don't trust me to play nice with roommates.”
Evers recovered with a hearty laugh.
“I don't expect you to play nice with anyone.”
Vua picked up her writing pad again, attempting to look occupied while putting in as little effort as possible.
But Evers wasn't going to let her get away that easily.
“Staring at nothing again?”
Evers was looking at her, deadpanned.
“Don't worry, we've all been there,” he continued. “But usually we're pretty shameless about it.”
Vua raised an eyebrow.
“Well I wasn't going to tell you you were boring.”
“How kind.”
Vua shrugged, going back to her pad, but the activity was now completely ruined. She sighed.
Evers looked on the verge of retort, but before he got his chance, he was interrupted by an incessant buzzing. Pausing half way through opening his mouth, Evers pulled out his ComD. Vua's examination of his reaction was blocked by the pull of her attention to her own ComD. Her eyes were pulled to the page icon where it appeared, front and center, flashing angrily for her attention.
“Bleeding problem – deck two?”
Upon comprehension of the question in Vua's voice, Evers looked up to shrug.
“Beats me. I don't know why anyone would be bleeding in their office, but thankfully that's not what they pay me for. Shall we?”
Tira waved a hand at the pair and turned to join the conversation off to her other side.
“Be safe, guys – good luck,” she gave before turning her back completely.
Her presence was not missed. The team was already up and moving, med kits in hand, to the portal room just to the side of the room. Andrian, Kerri, and Lisa had stood too, grabbing their stuff to trot along behind the pair as they approached the portal. Despite the lack of intensity in the groups pace, Vua could feel the eyes of some of her coworkers on her as she moved, as though the sheer mention of such a substance's existence in that area of the ship were positively unthinkable. Several conversations paused long enough for their participants to wish the crew luck, but hardly a moment longer. As soon as their wishes for the crew had been acknowledged, the well-wishers immediately moved to the much more interesting subject: what sort of a paper cut could constitute a bleeding problem in one of the ship's offices?
Evers reached the door first. Tapping his ComD to the pad, a light above the door winked blue, sliding open.
Inside, the eerie glow of portals lit the space, spilling their green light across the floor like a carpet, thick enough only to be observed. Though there were lights in the room, they had been turned down to minimum illumination of blue to avoid emitting enough radiation in the wavelengths most painful to the Ooainean portal tech stationed before them.
A soft membrane enclosed her organs, pulsating here and there as the substances within spun in complex patterns, generating the intricate thought within. The intricacies of her biology matched that of the computer before her. Like her, it blinked with mysterious symbols, sometimes going blank for periods of time when the screen switched to the ultraviolet colors the human crew couldn't detect.
“I've sent you each a map of deck two, section three. You should be seeing it soon on your ComD.” Her face hardly changed shape as she spoke. Instead, several small colors flashed across the blank space there, followed by ripples that would have expressed extra details to another Ooainean but were lost on the human crew.
She saw the look on Vua's face as the human woman inspected the empty screen of her ComD to determine it's uselessness.
“Oh, it didn't come through? Here, let me resend that...”
Several more seconds of blinking on the woman's computer screen and Vua's ComD buzzed yet again, revealing a simple, bare bones map of the halls leading from one room to another.
“Got it,” said Vua, looking it over with excessive care. “Thanks.”
“Looks like your best access is going to be to just take a right out the door and it'll be the fourth door on your left. Dispatch put a note here that someone's going to meet you at the door. Which door that would be, though, I have no idea.”
Kerri nodded. “Classic.”
“That's essentially what I told them.”
The portal seated in front of the tech was emitting a blueish color now, several of the mysterious bar graphs and lights set into its frame blinking to indicate things far too advanced for the medical crew to guess at. Far more advanced than the language of fart jokes they exchanged in the med tech room.
“All pulled up. Whenever you're ready.”
Andrian nodded his head to the portal. “Mind if I take lead on this one?”
“I would love nothing more than to let you write every chart today.”
“Be my guest!”
“Yeah man, go for it!”
“I don't care.”
Taking the cue embedded in the last response, Andrian nodded to the group, muttering some kind of thanks, and stepped through the portal. He was gleefully followed by Evers, who seemed far too excited about getting a call, then Kerri. Vua waited a short moment after Kerri's heel disappeared to take a quick step through the swirling blue.
Warmth trickled over her skin where she touched the edges of the portal to emerge on the other side. Vua stumbled as her gut rematerialized, upset by the disturbance, and she felt her heart skip a beat or two as it was pieced back together by the recompiler. She dropped her bag for a moment after stepping away to take a deep breath. Everything had returned to normal, but now the adrenaline of portal travel was hitting her as her body attempted to comprehend what insidious thing she had just done.
Evers had grabbed the transportation bag off the wall of the room and was just passing from her view out the door, following Andrian.
Picking up her bag again, Vua trotted after them, followed a moment later by the gasping of Lisa as she, too, attempted to recover quickly from the short trip.
“Phew!” she called to Vua as she stumbled up behind her. “At least that was a short one.”
“Amen to that.”
But that was all that was said before they reached the door.
“Hello, sir, my name is Andrian and we're gonna get you to the hospital deck,” was the first thing Vua heard from inside.
As she rounded the door frame, she nearly tripped on Andrian, who was kneeling in front of a massive man, apparently half Xyt, who was curled up on the floor beside the door, as if he had been dumped there like a mining sack.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Andrian was trying to ask, but the man seemed hardly as though he would be giving responses. It wasn't for lack of trying. Several moans with some consonants mixed in escaped him, but if they were in one of the human languages, Vua couldn't tell.
Though nothing appeared to be missing, and no distinct wounds could be seen from Vua's vantage point, a growing pool was spreading across an expensive carpet below him accompanied by the drip dripping of a hidden wound. But the growth of the pool was slow – enough so that it gave away how long it had taken for the ship's emergency services to be contacted.
She could see several people now, all standing before them, hardly batting an eye at the scene before them. Many of them were wearing the typical uniforms of the rest of the crew, but several had been allowed to dress in regular, home world formal wear that highlighted their importance.
“His volume is at 4.45 liters,” announced Kerri, squinting at a screen laid into the Anning Device she had strapped to the man's upper arm. “Heart rate 120, satting at 97 percent, and blood pressure is... 118 over 64.”
“Four four five, 120, and was that 97?”
Vua scribbled the numbers on her glove, using the care report pen. The letters appeared neatly on the pen's screen as she wrote them, shimmering on the side of the pen until she placed the period.
“And one one eight over six four,” finished Kerri.
“What's the TTC number?”
“We've got 25 minutes.”
“Phew, well we won't need all that,” Evers sighed with relief.
“Nope! I've got the transfusions here, what does he need?” Lisa had squeezed past Vua and was ripping the top off her bag.
“Looks like... B negative?” Kerri questioned. “Huh, it shifted for a moment there but looks like it's for sure B negative.”
The man shifted and Vua could see the wound now. If this was a paper cut, it was the worst of its kind. This man was missing part of his right hand. Severed straight through, it looked as though someone had taken a sword and sliced diagonally clean across the palm. Only part of his index finger and his thumb remained, attached precariously to the stump of a hand.
Andrian had given up on asking questions and had begun inspecting the man for further injury.
“What happened?”
Evers' question was directed at the group of people who appeared to be going back to some kind of a business meeting.
“An accident.”
The speaker was of average height. Several blemishes on his face spoke of the brave battle had had fought against a childhood illness – small pockets of red dotting his neck in the characteristic pattern of the Hight Fever that had swept the queen's planet in an earlier time. Though humans were one of the smaller races aboard the Illiad, it appeared to have been his human parent that granted him the ability to stand more than eight inches above the height of the table. In fact, if the man had any less muscle on him, or any fewer inches in his legs, Vua would have called him small – scrawny in fact.
And yet, despite what would have been deficiencies for any other commanding officer, Vua couldn't help but know in her heart that this man was very much in charge of everything happening within this room. And on this deck. And on this ship. And probably on the battlefield at that moment, even though he couldn't really see it.
“Could you be more specific?”
Evers' new question brought Vua back from her inspection of the man she had never seen in person, refocusing her attention on the pen dangling in her hand. Scribbling down a chief complaint and several demographics, she took a few steps closer to Evers, who had busied himself setting up the transport gurney while addressing the room.
“Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this injury speaks for itself.”
Vua couldn't help herself. “So I take it this was not done by Parphric Steel or anything that could have touched anything else; probably sliced in a sterile environment with surgical precision and zero risk of infection?”
The warning practically rolled off Evers in waves as he turned to look at his partner, wide eyed, but slightly amused. Vua herself wasn't entirely sure where this attitude had come from, but now that it reared its ugly head, there was little she could do to put it back in the box. But probably she could find a way to tame it. A little. Probably.
“Officer, if you have a problem with something I suggest you make a report to your superior. This man needs attention, and this council urgently needs to reconvene.”
“This will require a medical investigation,” she responded, shaking her head slightly. “Being that this man is not in the field at the moment and due to the likely mechanisms, I am a required reporter for this.”
But the general only nodded and turned back to his audience to shrug, as though he could hardly believe the insolence of the drafted members of the crew he'd been given.
Vua gritted her teeth and made a note on her glove, mostly about the obscurity of the situation, followed by a request for a medical investigation.
“Lonas, is the stretcher ready?” Andrian had turned away from the tourniquet he'd placed on the patient's arm to check in with the rest of the crew.
“You better believe it.”
“I love it. Okay let's get this guy rolling.”
Andrian turned back to the guy, who was now whimpering in pain, holding his arm.
“Did we need that?” whispered Lisa to Vua.
But Vua just shrugged.
“Did you happen to catch the time for the tourniquet?” She readied her pen as she spoke.
“Yeah, 1325.”
“Copy, one three two five. Got it.”
“Okay sir, we're gonna help you get up and we're gonna move onto that bed right there, got it? Okay everybody ready? One, two, th-ugh.”
Little thought appeared to have been given to the actual weight of their patient, but as soon as he stood, it became clear that the exoskeleton that served him so well elsewhere was going to be a little bit of a hindrance.
After several curses, some shuffling, and a couple hisses from pokes, the man was curled up on the stretcher.
“Are we gonna fit through doors like that?”
Evers bit his lip. “I think so. We'll just have to go slow.”
A portal tech had appeared at the door, denoted only by the patch on the right side of her uniform.
“Trauma start,” muttered Andrian to the tech. Then to Vua, “You still got that pen?”
She tossed it to him then took a position at the feet of the gurney to guide it out of the room, not failing to give the general one last good glance to let him know exactly how she felt.
The feeling was left without being expressed, however. The general made no attempt to meet her gaze, instead focusing on a chart he had pulled up on the screen at the front of the room.
It didn't bother her too much. Which is to say, there was an insatiable wish to throw something at the man that dogged her all afternoon, but it was exiled to the back of her mind, replaced by the problem solving aspects of getting their patient to the hospital deck, giving report, then throwing all of her time into doing as little as possible on her multireader while looking mildly productive. The effect was that few people asked her about the call. Instead, they focused their attentions on the rest of the team, begging for any small details about the deck that lay so forbidden.
Section 12
Shortly after returning to her quarters, Vua received her new orders. Her shifts would still be twelve hours, but this time with only nine hours between instead of the usual twelve, and with teams specified in advance, to allow a little more preparation. All of hers for the next few days, assuming the siege would still be in progress, that is, were to be inter-ship emergencies. Each shift was scheduled to start at 0900. Hearsay suggested that these were going to be more difficult shifts now as well. Instead of sitting around playing cards as many of the inter-ship emergency crews had done until this moment, it sounded as though they had been running calls non-stop from the first moment the Illiad's entered the arena. It appeared that, although the Trallians were facing almost certain defeat, small fleets of them continually left the surface, taking down the smaller, more maneuverable crafts of the Queen's forces. The end result was a high number of rescues required for completely disabled ships, dead in the water and in need of mechanical (and sometimes a little medical) assistance.
Vua had run these types of calls before for smaller ships. The fighters had very little protection in the way of energy grids – only encapsulating their life support systems. From Vua's understanding, the purpose of having such small grids was conservation of energy. By using a smaller amount of energy to power an energy grid, the ship could be more efficient while putting a great deal of power toward speed and weapons systems, making these smaller ships both more efficient at flyover attacks and much more of an easy target.
The fix, from the Vua's perspective, was fairly simple. The weapons were usually the first system to go offline. At that point the ship's crew would realize their danger and light their distress beacon. By that time, the engines were often knocked out, sometimes with the power, requiring the emergency mechanical teams assistance. Only after the mechanical teams had cleared the ship for extra personnel and begun the triage process were the medical teams invited aboard to actually treat the patients.
Even then, once medical was on scene, the likelihood of coming across any serious injuries were low. Most of the time, the only purpose they really served was to guide people to the med deck of the Illiad where they could have their cuts and scrapes looked after. Every once in a while a concussion or minor burn would come their way, but even that was rare.
Essentially, Vua recognized that while inter-ship emergencies was theoretically a much more dangerous job, it was often a much more boring job. There were few engineering accidents or medical emergencies that really exercised her brain or required a higher level of care than a few bandages.
She scoffed at the new schedule from the safety of her room, but the result of her action was dissatisfying. No one appreciated the ridiculousness of the situation, and the only response she received was the slight echo from the walls around her, bouncing back her own voice.
Dropping the ComD onto the table, Vua reconsidered a different situation plaguing her. She had yet to solve the ghost problem that had begun encroaching on her life. Upon returning to her room after her last on board emergency shift, she had come across yet another ghost, lingering in the entry way to her quarters. She had almost collided with it upon opening the door, barely finding a way to rip the bead off her wrist without dropping her food. Worse yet, she had run into Helia Keel inside the mess hall – a reminder of the deal they had going that Vua had yet to follow up on.
Dropping her spork into the potatoes on the plate before her, Vua stood to retrieve a box from her bedroom.
While she would continue to run out of beads if she were to keep smashing them inside the ghosts, perhaps there was another way of keeping the monsters at bay – a less expensive method.
Searching through the box, Vua came across several compounded materials she had used several years ago when she had been frequently calling upon the realm of the ghosts. The enchanted key was still there, though useless without the other ingredients she needed to break through the Veil to use it. The bottom of the box also contained an alternative box, separating several items from the others.
Vua pulled out the skull of a crow, creatures notorious for their frequent associations with the dead, and from the bigger box, a pinch bag of crystally blue powder.
She whispered several words to the crow skull, instructing it how to hold in the powder as she would have done in the past – before her incident. Though she felt nothing of the sensations she remembered, she carried on to pour a pinch of the powder into the basin created by the skull plates. As the dust left her fingers, Vua held her breath.
But it made no difference.
Blue dust seeped out of the eyes of the skull, as though she had done nothing at all to prevent it. New charms were still impossible.
Dropping the skull to the table, Vua sighed. Rather than clean up the new mess, however, she took a more logical course of action and, grabbing her plate, moved to her bedroom where she could lie down comfortably with the LoScreen, finishing her food.
***
Vua had run these types of calls before for smaller ships. The fighters had very little protection in the way of energy grids – only encapsulating their life support systems. From Vua's understanding, the purpose of having such small grids was conservation of energy. By using a smaller amount of energy to power an energy grid, the ship could be more efficient while putting a great deal of power toward speed and weapons systems, making these smaller ships both more efficient at flyover attacks and much more of an easy target.
The fix, from the Vua's perspective, was fairly simple. The weapons were usually the first system to go offline. At that point the ship's crew would realize their danger and light their distress beacon. By that time, the engines were often knocked out, sometimes with the power, requiring the emergency mechanical teams assistance. Only after the mechanical teams had cleared the ship for extra personnel and begun the triage process were the medical teams invited aboard to actually treat the patients.
Even then, once medical was on scene, the likelihood of coming across any serious injuries were low. Most of the time, the only purpose they really served was to guide people to the med deck of the Illiad where they could have their cuts and scrapes looked after. Every once in a while a concussion or minor burn would come their way, but even that was rare.
Essentially, Vua recognized that while inter-ship emergencies was theoretically a much more dangerous job, it was often a much more boring job. There were few engineering accidents or medical emergencies that really exercised her brain or required a higher level of care than a few bandages.
She scoffed at the new schedule from the safety of her room, but the result of her action was dissatisfying. No one appreciated the ridiculousness of the situation, and the only response she received was the slight echo from the walls around her, bouncing back her own voice.
Dropping the ComD onto the table, Vua reconsidered a different situation plaguing her. She had yet to solve the ghost problem that had begun encroaching on her life. Upon returning to her room after her last on board emergency shift, she had come across yet another ghost, lingering in the entry way to her quarters. She had almost collided with it upon opening the door, barely finding a way to rip the bead off her wrist without dropping her food. Worse yet, she had run into Helia Keel inside the mess hall – a reminder of the deal they had going that Vua had yet to follow up on.
Dropping her spork into the potatoes on the plate before her, Vua stood to retrieve a box from her bedroom.
While she would continue to run out of beads if she were to keep smashing them inside the ghosts, perhaps there was another way of keeping the monsters at bay – a less expensive method.
Searching through the box, Vua came across several compounded materials she had used several years ago when she had been frequently calling upon the realm of the ghosts. The enchanted key was still there, though useless without the other ingredients she needed to break through the Veil to use it. The bottom of the box also contained an alternative box, separating several items from the others.
Vua pulled out the skull of a crow, creatures notorious for their frequent associations with the dead, and from the bigger box, a pinch bag of crystally blue powder.
She whispered several words to the crow skull, instructing it how to hold in the powder as she would have done in the past – before her incident. Though she felt nothing of the sensations she remembered, she carried on to pour a pinch of the powder into the basin created by the skull plates. As the dust left her fingers, Vua held her breath.
But it made no difference.
Blue dust seeped out of the eyes of the skull, as though she had done nothing at all to prevent it. New charms were still impossible.
Dropping the skull to the table, Vua sighed. Rather than clean up the new mess, however, she took a more logical course of action and, grabbing her plate, moved to her bedroom where she could lie down comfortably with the LoScreen, finishing her food.
***