The Hunt for the Halifax Fox, page 11
Harriet’s eyes snapped up to meet Ashrael’s. “What was your track?”
Ashrael signed her answer, gesturing for Price to repeat it. “Locum... what?” said Price, exasperated.
“Locum tenens,” said Harriet. “Specialty?”
“Comprehensive. My experience is micro- and low-g. You can contact them for my credentials—Clarity Larez.”
“No time,” said Harriet. “My daughter has experience, she’ll assist.”
“That means what, exactly?” said Price. “Are you a paramedic?”
“She’s a field doctor,” replied Harriet, her face tilted back down. "A surgeon."
Price pulled off her duster vest and tossed it into a cupboard. “I didn’t see that coming.”
7
roksani price, almost decent
"What's wrong with him?"
Ashrael had already thrust her arms into the sanitizer. As the captain chafed beside her, the rapid-fire chuff chuff chuff of cleaning jets accompanied the tickle of the scrubbers going under her nails. The cold spray of the barrier coated her hands and forearms. She stepped back from the wall, waving her hands to dry the barrier. “Contisus anueculus. Microscopic Avetan parasites that feed on injured tissue. He’s been to Aveta?”
“Twice.”
“It’s been lying dormant. It got into the aorta after this last surgery. He’s bleeding into his thoracic cavity.” She gestured the captain over to the sanitizer. The anueculus swarm was steadily widening the rupture. They had to stop it, and soon.
Pulling her arms from the wall, Price said, “Sterilize.” They stood facing each other with their arms out to the sides, quietly taking each other in, to the sound of the long, husky exhale of the sanitizing mist.
Ashrael took up the scissors and began to cut away Jos's shirt. Price seemed unsure what to do with her hands. She said, “You sure you can do surgery?”
Ashrael slapped the scissors down onto the tray and turned on her. “You sure you can captain a goddamn ship?”
Price blinked. “Well okay then.”
Ashrael glared at her. Yes, it was hard to trust a loved one’s life to fallible human hands, but orbiting gods, was there a mark on her somewhere that flagged her as a helpless victim incapable of an actual skillset?
Belatedly she remembered that there was just such a mark on her. And truth be told, her “skillset” wasn’t really anything to brag about. She’d never been a very dedicated doctor.
Price was looking down at Jos, jaw tight, a hand resting on his arm.
“Grade two means trained in non-tech general surgery,” said Ashrael. “We’re going to save him.”
She owed this to Jos, who’d been helping her put herself back together, and to this captain and the crew who'd saved her life. It was her duty as a medical doctor, undisciplined though she may be. These thoughts ran through her mind, her motivational speech, until a less noble truth elbowed its way to the front. Roksani Price would owe her a favor.
Fine. Save the engineer, make sure she got back on that ship and away from Isak. Whatever it took.
Ashrael studied the images the AI fed into the iatric unit, gritted her teeth against the convergence beginning to storm in her gut, and bent to her task.
* * *
She sat heavy with her elbows on her knees, bleary-eyed, staring at the wall of the empty critical care room. After Jos, there’d been another, less urgent surgery, and hours’ worth of wound care, administering of meds, and cleaning up. Now Harriet found her and entered the room. “You should go. They’ve saved you dinner.”
Ashrael couldn’t bring her leaden limbs to push her body out of the chair. Harriet leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. “You really helped pull us through all that. I regret not getting you in here sooner. I just never would have expected my daughter to have a degreed physician in her crew.”
“I’m not one of the crew.”
Harriet shook her head. “How in the universe did someone like you get caught up with them?”
What did she have against this crew? “They helped me. They got me away from someone dangerous.”
Harriet chewed that over, an eyebrow raised. “Well. Benjoska at least is worth a few stripes, and you kept him in the universe today. So, thank you. How long have you been practicing?”
“Eleven years, but only on and off.”
Harriet pushed herself from the wall. “Most of my medical staff are family members who have half that and never set foot in med school. Scrubs are in the staff room. I’ll have Marco orient you tomorrow. They're the lead nurse. All staff answers to them around the running of the clinic, including you and my other physician, Avery.” She extended a hand to pull Ashrael to her to her feet. “Go back and get some rest.” She nodded toward the door.
Ashrael was halfway down the hall when Harriet called after her. “I forgot what you said your name is. Claire? Clarise?”
“Ashrael.”
Harriet pursed her lips. "Right. Okay Ashrael, do you have a surname?”
She did. It was simple and common, and untraceable, because she and her Tachuri had told each other and no one else. She’d never gotten a chance to use it. Ashrael rolled it in her mind, felt the weight of it, and decided it felt right, even as it settled like a stone in her heart. She signed her response.
Harriet nodded. “Welcome to Silus Station, Doctor Eli.”
* * *
“Doctor Eli.”
Ashrael turned at Mar-Sadiqa’s voice and was immediately alarmed to see her with the dog. It was hauling her forward by a rope attached to a harness, its tail slinging madly back and forth like a whip as it came at Ashrael from across the square. She stood frozen with her fists tight against her chest as the thing vigorously sniffed her, then it just about scared her bladder empty with a sharp, booming shout. It made the noise again, and again, and all the while Mar-Sadiqa tried to pull it away. “Stop barking, you big moose. She’s scared of you! Doctor Eli, he’s not going to leave you alone until you say hi.”
Ashrael unclenched a hand, and keeping it at chest height, waved down at the beast. It didn't work. Gingerly, holding her hands up by her chin, she signed, “You don’t have to call me ‘Doctor.’”
“It’s polite to,” the girl replied. “But okay.”
A strong voice rang across the square. “Naos, cut it out.” The dog froze, ears at attention. When it sighted the captain ambling out of the clinic, it plunged toward her, causing Mar-Sadiqa’s wings to flare open as she struggled to hold on and keep her balance. Reaching them, Price knelt and ruffled the fur on its head. “Why’re you so scared?” she asked Ashrael. “He’s just a big silly baby.” To Mar-Sadiqa, she said, “I’ll take him. Jos is bored and needs somebody else to hit on.”
Mar-Sadiqa hid a smile behind her hand. “Right. Um, I think Val was on their way over there anyway. Bye, Miss Eli.” She handed the rope to the captain, and before leaving gave Ashrael a mischievous smile and a chest-height wave of her fingers, as if scared to lower her hands.
“‘Miss?’” Ashrael shrugged and put up her hands in a gesture of surrender. The captain got on her knees and rubbed her forehead into the dog’s. Ashrael had learned at least a few Offlander habits during her childhood, customs that had filtered in despite the barrier wall around the Emergence Collective's despotic isolation. This strange take on the Offlander show of love made Roksani Price look almost decent.
Price lifted her head and gave Ashrael a look of guarded appraisal. “Jos is doing well.” She turned her attention back to the dog.
This was the first time they’d been alone since docking on Silus. During the rare times when the captain showed up in the family quarters, it seemed that her sharp edge had sharpened further. She had ignored Ashrael completely. Now here they were, alone, with the captain in an unusually good mood. Her remark about Jos could almost have been a statement of thanks. Given Price's terrible personality, this opportunity likely wouldn’t last long.
Ashrael took a few steps closer and lowered herself to the ground. Instantly the dog got in her face, snuffing and pushing at her with a wetly disgusting nose, and Ashrael’s breath caught in fear. Hidden under those soft whiskers, so close to her neck, lay a set of sharp carnivore teeth. She reminded herself that it was just a pet, a domesticated animal long removed from its savage ancestors. Just a pet. A big silly baby. And this was her opening. She patted it and endured its horrifying nearness with what she hoped was a happy-looking smile.
“You’re terrified.” The captain raised an eyebrow at her. Ashrael’s smile became a real one, a laughing grimace. She nodded helplessly, her eyes squeezed shut, giggling silently as the dog’s licking tongue tickled her upraised hands. The captain chuckled and pulled it away.
They both looked at the same time. Ashrael’s embarrassed grin greeted the captain’s amused smile, and their eyes met in an undefended moment of harmony. The sudden surge hit like a hard punch to the gut.
The captain’s smile faltered. Again, she shrugged the feeling off, turning her attention back to the dog. She told Ashrael that its display of tongue and teeth was a dog’s version of a smile. She demonstrated how it chased and returned a thrown toy and described the behavior's purpose among the dog's wild ancestors. Ashrael registered the words, but from a light-year away. Price had no idea what she’d just done.
Distantly, she knew the captain was getting frustrated. She noticed the moment Price dismissed her as she’d dismissed the convergence. When the captain led the dog back to the family quarters, Ashrael followed, went into her room, and closed the door. She sat on her cot with her back against the wall, knees pulled to chest. No. No.
Convergence coursed through her. It didn’t matter if she fought it. Just as it had been on Clearwater, no was not an option. She grabbed the pillow and buried her face in it, as if she could scream.
* * *
It was early morning, pre-breakfast, an hour before the fitness crowd typically arrived in the gym. Hachi sweated away in a corner, an explosive puff of breath accompanying each chest press. He glanced at her. “Hey.” He nodded at the bar over her head. She groaned inwardly and started her next set of chin-ups. You were supposed to attach resistance bands, but even in the lower spin-gravity of this deck she could manage to move only her own weight. Still, she was making progress.
Another week had passed on Silus, and Ashrael was becoming as restless as the captain. She’d been keeping busy, trying to distract herself. But Isak had eyes everywhere, and she couldn't shake the sense that every passing hour brought him closer. When Price appeared, she ignored Ashrael. Not a word was said about their deal.
Even if Price found a way to hack into the conspiracy queue, that jackass captain owed her.
An unbidden image appeared in her mind. It was Price in the square, powerfully beautiful in that unguarded moment, absent the internal viper's nest that usually twisted her face into something dangerous. Ashrael dropped to the floor.
Hachi’s AI assistant spoke. "Hachenyu Tavarres, you en-fothikdir gei fifta-min."
Hachi set the bar in its cradle and rolled out of the machine's enclosing embrace. "Y’thehnik," he told his assistant. "And Hachi'll do, same as always. Jos get into you?"
"Yes. Sorry."
Hachi gave a chuckle, grabbed a towel, and nodded to Ashrael. "Time to go. Let's get cleaned up." As he turned for the showers, mopping his face, Ashrael touched his arm and shrugged a question. "Sorry, forgot to tell you. Crew’s meeting. It involves you." At her look of alarm he added, “Nah, it’s not about you, just need you there.”
“I have a shift.”
“Captain cleared your morning schedule at the clinic. Harriet wasn’t pleased. Displeasure’s just kind of her M.O. though, so don’t worry about it.”
They cleaned up and made their way back to the family’s living quarters and into the boarding room. The captain sat perched on the edge of a lower bunk, her leg bouncing restlessly. When they were all there, she leaned forward, elbows on knees. “It’s time for us to decide what comes next. The ship is almost solid enough to make a port crossing. We’re expected to make a report to the Provinces and bring back this top-secret weapon we were supposed to find on Clearwater. There are a few catches.”
“No top-secret weapon,” said Mar-Sadiqa. She sat next to Val on the floor, flicking her fingertips through a game.
"Get off your link," Price snapped. “But yes. No weapon. In addition, some of us don’t want to go back." She watched this sink in. “The Provinces has us bent over a barrel, and they have no timetable for when they’re going to stop screwing us. For those who are just joining this shit parade,” and she nodded in Ashrael’s direction, “the Provinces caught us in a raid on one of their protectorates and gave us a choice of prison or contract work.” She looked around at her crew. “We chose contract. Fair’s fair. But Ahmadi never told me how long the contract was supposed to last.”
“The contract was never supposed to end,” said Val dryly. "Isn't that how the indenture system usually works?"
Price shrugged. “Not that I would’ve made a different choice. But here’s the thing. For a while now, a couple of us have been talking about jumping ship. Now that Ahmadi’s gone, Hachi, Jos and I have decided it’s time to part ways with the Halifax. I’m done with the United Provinces.”
Sitting beside Hachi on his bunk, Ashrael watched the crew’s reactions. All bore looks of surprise, except Kalashnik, whose expression had gone calculating. Jos spoke up. “We're going to take the Halifax to the Cruach and cross at the Caballus Port. We’ll ditch it in the Jupiter Range, pay the docking fee, go our separate ways, and send a message to the Provinces to go and get their ship. I plan to thoroughly disappear, probably back to this system, and just stay out of their way for the rest of my merry old life.”
“Why don’t we sell the Halifax?” said Kalashnik. “In this system. We could all use something to get us started. Tavarres, you know a weapons dealer, right? What do you think he’d give us for it?”
Hachi didn’t look up from his enormous knife, which he was using to clean under his fingernails. “She doesn’t buy ships.”
Jos crossed his arms. “The idea is that we give the Halifax back to the Provinces, and they maybe forgive us a little bit for breaking the contract and decide searching the systems for us isn’t worth the headache.”
Kalashnik began to protest, but the captain cut him off. “This is what’s happening. It’s been decided. All of you have one option now: to disappear. You may think you want to get right with the Provinces so you don’t have to watch your back all the time, but after the rest of us desert, you may not find them to be very charitable.”
“There is another option,” said Jos. “Get on the ship, and on the other side of the port, tell the United Provinces where we’re headed and what we’re planning to do. The Jurans don’t offer amnesty to foreigners wanted by other ranges for criminal activity. So, the Provinces Navy intercepts us. We go to prison for a few decades, and in return for your loyalty to Earth you’re free, or at least as free as the Provinces decides you can be." Jos didn't look directly at Kalashnik, but the animosity would have been hard to miss. "The more likely ending is we escape their patrol ship and find out who called them. Captain Price likes sending people out airlocks.”
“I can’t say it’s not true,” said Price. She gestured with her head toward Ashrael. “We’re taking her to Sol with us. 1,300 stripes, payable when she regains access to her account. That was the agreement.” She passed a look to Ashrael. Ashrael passed the look back with a nod. “There’s a risk in going with us," Price continued. "If we meet up with military in Sol—Provinces, or some Union officer in a foul mood—there’ll be trouble, and you’ll be in it with us. We could drop you off in the Crotch instead. Shut up Jos.”
He closed his mouth, and with visible effort kept it closed. The Crotch was Offlanders’ nickname for the Cruach, the ostentatious sister asteroid cluster that shared the outer orbit, along with Callic Alir. It was nowhere she wanted to be stranded. She shook her head and pointed at the captain: going with you.
“Just making sure we’re clear.” Price addressed the group. “If we don’t hit any more problems, we’ll be up and running soon. You have a week to finish the ship and wrap up whatever trouble you’ve gotten yourselves into here, then we’re headed for Jupiter.” She stood.
“You don’t need all of us to get the ship to Sol.” Willow, the senior mechanic and part-time medic, had remained standing by the door throughout the meeting.
“Jos, Hachi and I are going,” said Price. “Somebody’s got to pilot, so you’re going too, Mosi. Edward, what do you want to do?”
The boy looked like he was choking. “I’ll... I’ll stay. Here. For now.”
“Fine. Go learn to pilot on a safer ship. Kalashnik, you’re free to come or go. Willow and Val, it’s down to one of you. We’ll need a mechanic and a backup pilot, and you both fit the job description.”
Willow looked sideways at Val, who shrugged and said, “Obviously I’m sticking with Marky.”
Mar-Sadiqa swatted Val with a sideward flick of a wing. “Don’t call me Marky.” Her long-suffering look couldn’t hide her smile.
Price rose. “Congratulations Ellison, you’re now promoted to Senior Mechanic.”
With the meeting over, the crew trickled out to continue working on the ship. Ashrael reached the family quarters door at the same time as the captain. She gestured for the captain to go first. “Go ahead,” said Price. They stood suspended in a moment of awkwardness, after which they both made for the door at the same time and bumped into each other. The captain raised an eyebrow. Ashrael, smiling at the floor, slipped out into the square.
She turned as the captain followed her out. “Thank you.”
“I don’t have much of a choice,” Price grumbled.
Hachi, emerging from the family quarters, came up between them and looped an arm around each set of shoulders. He gave Ashrael a squeeze, his arm engulfing her. “Glad you’re coming along.” He released them and ambled away, leaving Ashrael frozen in place.
