Pollie looked startled. “Goodness, no!”
“Oh.”
Pollie smiled. “You don’t know who I am.”
Liya knew she had to come clean. “I’m sorry, no. I know your name. I just can’t remember from where.”
“I am Masud Magorian’s partner. Zsoka Owens is a very good friend of mine. I’m here for her, as she is far too busy to do it herself.”
Liya stared at her, stunned. Masud Magorian was the Captain’s chief of staff. Captain Owens herself was looking for a dress and her best friend was sitting on Liya’s make-do sofa. How had that happened?
Pollie leaned forward. “Although, if you can complete a dress for Zsoka fast enough, I would like very much for you to make one for me, too, for the soiree.”
Liya stirred and reached for the soft tape measure she had researched and designed and printed for herself. “I’ll start with your measurements. Then I will need the Captain’s—”
“You’ll have to go to the Bridge to get those,” Pollie said, standing up. “You should take some design ideas with you. You understand that Zsoka cannot wear the same dress you’ve made for other customers, don’t you? It must be unique.”
“Can I use the design again, once she has worn the dress?” Liya asked. “It is possible that other customers will want the same dress, once they have seen the captain wear it.”
Pollie’s eyes widened. “Now, there’s an intriguing idea! Everyone copying the Captain! Yes, yes, I think that would be more than suitable. Now, what do you charge for your services?”
Liya named a figure that made her voice shake even speaking it aloud.
Pollie nodded, her gaze on the screen where the three dimensional dummies were turning, displaying their garments from every angle. “Fine, fine. Masud can settle when you are on the Bridge. Ten percent in advance?”
Liya had never asked for a deposit, ever. She held herself still. “Twenty-five,” she said firmly.
“That seems more than reasonable, given your unique skills,” Pollie said.
Liya gave her a shaky smile. She had just negotiated a month’s rent and food credits as a deposit.
The next twenty-four hours were a blur of historical archive files, images and design drawings, as Liya drew sketches of possible dresses for the captain. Her sleep was sporadic for she would only stop when she absolutely had to.
Despite rarely sleeping, Anar Bader’s call woke her. All signs of tiredness evaporated when he told her Gelin was being brought in from outside the ship on a medical emergency.
Chapter Three
Gelin’s crew had been working at the engine-end of the Endurance for months and there were airlocks to the outside through the engine compartments behind the Palatine. Only qualified and authorized personal could go into the engine areas, though.
Anar was waiting at the Esquiline gate into the Palatine, with a taxi-boat on standby. He spotted her as she stepped off the train platform and gestured for her to hurry.
Liya ran up the steps to the bulkhead gateway into the Palatine and across the platform to the taxi-boat. Anar settled her in and shut the door at the back end and tapped the driver on the shoulder. The boat lifted away from the platform and zoomed along the zero-gravity center of the Palatine hub, moving as fast as the little runabouts could go.
She wrapped her arms about her middle, for she was shaking and cold. “Have you heard anything more?” she asked Anar.
He held up the portable screen he was carrying. “The medic on duty in the engine compartments is a friend of mine. She heard about Evan and Gelin—I think the whole ship knows by now. She called me as soon as the alert about Gelin sounded. She has been keeping me updated. He’s recovering.”
Weak relief trickled through her, even though “recovery” was not full health. “Recovering from what? What happened?”
“His suit was compromised and he was exposed to vacuum for nearly thirty seconds.”
Her heart came to a stuttering stop. “Exposed?” she whispered, horrified.
Anar gripped her wrist with a calming motion. “The human body can withstand a few seconds exposure, if the victim is smart enough to blow out all the air from his lungs, then fight the need to try to breathe in more. Gelin was smart.” Anar patted her wrist. “They train for it, I’m told.”
Liya nodded mutely. Anar’s assurances were not enough to take away the fear. “What about ebullism?” she whispered.
Anar’s clear eyes examined her. His brows lifted. “You know about decompression sickness?”
“When Gelin first started training, I read all the material he was required to read. I’ve read more since.” Every time there was an emergency, every time there was an accident, every time Gelin had told her of some near-miss or new safety procedure put in place, Liya had researched it with almost manic compulsiveness, driven by the need to know what could go wrong and how bad it could get.
The sum of her reading told her there was little room for error out there. Mistakes were usually fatal. Had someone made a mistake and by some unknown magic, Gelin had survived?
Anar lifted the board. “Sarah didn’t specifically mention the Bends, but she would have scanned for the symptoms. Gelin will have to wear a monitor for a few days.” He gave her a small smile that she thought was supposed to be reassuring. “He wasn’t exposed very long. They got him into the airlock fast and Sarah was right there, when it cycled open on the inside.”
The board beeped softly and Anar read it. He nodded. “No bubbles have formed that they can find. He’s clear.”
Conversely, Liya trembled even harder.
Anar muttered something under his breath and put the board on the bench behind the driver. “Hey, are you turning into a patient, now?”
She shook her head. “I’m just relieved.” She swiped at her leaky eyes. “I can’t believe he survived exposure…”
Anar nodded toward the approaching engine gate and the platform in front of it. “You should be able to see for yourself in a few minutes.”
When the taxi-boat docked at the platform, though, the gate refused to open for them. Anar palmed the alert pad and spoke to the controller behind the bulkhead. Liya couldn’t hear what he was saying, although his low, angry tones were enough to tell her what was happening.
Anar came back to her, shaking his head. “We’ll have to wait here,” he told her, sounding apologetic. “They won’t let us in, not even for an emergency.”
Liya looked up at the solid, blank plasteel wall and the heavy door that barred the gate. The hub of the Palatine torus circled around the door at the center. She’d heard that the bulkhead here was several meters thick, enough to shield the Palatine and all the precious bio-diverse DNA assembled there from any radiation flares. “I don’t think I want to go in there, anyway,” she admitted. “I’ve heard it’s dark and enclosed.”
“They use daylights just as the rest of the ship does,” Anar said. He murmured to the taxi-boat driver, who leaned over, picked up Anar’s screen and gave it to him. Anar tapped on it a few times. “I’ve let Sarah know we’re here.”
They stood silently for a few minutes. Liya turned her back on the bulkhead and watched the Palatine rotate. She understood the principles of how it worked, yet always found it fascinating to see the landscape up on the “roof”, turned upside down while looking perfectly normal, except that it was night dark and shadowed.
Anar’s board beeped again.
“They’re bringing Gelin to the gate,” he told her. “Sarah will release him to my care.”
Liya looked back. “We can take him home?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “He’s walking, Liya. Slowly. But he’s walking.”
She gave a shaky laugh and clapped her hand over her mouth to repress the sound.
The heavy door into the engine area ground open, sliding along geared tracks with deep metallic clanking. It revealed a long tunnel, which proved the rumors were true. The bulkhead was meters thick here.
On the other si
de of the tunnel stood five people. Gelin was one of the two tallest there. He was leaning on a plasteel construction rod, using it as a temporary staff to help hold himself up.
Liya made herself stay still, even though she wanted to throw herself at him. The other people around him stopped her. One of them was a short woman with orange hair and an authoritative air. That had to be Sarah, Anar’s doctor friend. She encouraged Gelin to move forward through the tunnel with a hand on his arm.
There was another woman. Short brown hair and hazel eyes, pixie nose and a way of looking at people directly. Maria Pater, Gelin’s partner when they were working outside. Adam Wary was next to Gelin. He was Gelin’s crew boss and just as tall as Gelin. The other man was unknown to Liya.
All of them moved through the tunnel and onto the platform. Gelin met Liya’s gaze. His face was white and his brow puckered, as if he was in pain.
“It is very painful?” Liya asked.
“No,” he said and she knew he was lying. His gaze shifted around the platform and fell on Anar. “Does Evan know what has happened? That everything’s okay? I don’t want him to worry.”
Liya grew still, holding in her reaction, her hurt. She moved out of the way, over toward the railings at the very edge of the platform.
Gelin looked at the doctor, Sarah. “I can go home, then?”
“Just don’t remove the monitor.” She touched his chest. Her finger tapped on something hard. There was a medical monitor under his shirt. “And do whatever Anar tells you to do. I’m releasing you into his care, only because I know the quality of his work.”
“Thanks, doc,” Gelin said roughly and eased himself forward, moving slowly.
Adam Wary patted Gelin’s back and he and the others moved back toward the tunnel.
Liya was the last to step back onto the taxi-boat. She wondered if Gelin even noticed she was there.
All the way back to the Esquiline platform, she shivered. It wasn’t with relief, either.
* * * * *
The sound of a baby crying could be heard long before the spatula reached the top level of the Wall, stirring even Liya from her preoccupation.
“Is that your baby?” Anar asked, sounding concerned.
Gelin frowned. “You said you didn’t get an answer from Evan?”
“No,” Anar said, his voice distant. He was focused upon the green façade of the slice. It was just above them, now. It was unmistakable the distressed screaming was coming from Gelin’s apartment.
Liya moved toward the front lip of the spatula. “She sounds as though she is in pain,” she said.
Gelin pressed his hand against the entry panel and the door clicked unlocked and eased open. The screaming leapt in volume.
Anar pushed the door wide and they moved inside. Liya winced at the noise. It wasn’t the volume that made it difficult to listen to. It was the distress and pain she could hear in the little girl’s screaming.
Evan had her in his arms and was rocking her. He may even have been making soothing noises, only Liya couldn’t hear them if he was. She was shocked at his appearance. His hair was standing in rough spikes. There were deep bruises under his eyes and the eyes were bloodshot. The stubble on his chin was forming into a full beard.
“What happened?” he demanded, lifting his voice. He was looking at Gelin.
“I was stupid, is what happened,” Gelin said shortly. He looked down at the baby. She was squirming, her face bright red. Her screams were diminishing in a breathless way that sounded worse than the screams themselves.
“I told you to get more sleep,” Evan chided Gelin. “You can’t work outside and stay safe with two hours a night.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Gelin demanded.
Anar stepped between them and laid his hand on the baby’s head. “She’s far too hot,” he said, his voice rising with alarm.
“Fever?” Evan asked, sounding just as worried.
Liya stayed by the wall next to the front door. She wasn’t a part of this. No one even knew she was there.
The baby began to wail again, in huge, hard notes that made Liya cringe. What could make a baby cry that way? It had to be terrible!
Pounding started on the wall next to the table and it shivered under the impact.
“Turn it down, will you?” came a muffled protest from the slice next door.
Anar tugged at the blanket around the baby. “Take this off her. Take off everything. She must be cooled down. Gelin, run water in a big dish, a bucket, whatever you wash her in.”
Gelin inched toward the kitchen sink slowly, wincing, as Evan unwound the thick blanket. Anar helped him take the baby’s outer clothes off.
The neighbor thumped on the wall again, making everyone jump.
Liya pushed herself away from the door and moved over to the kitchen counter, stepping around Gelin. “Let me do that,” she said, taking the shallow bath away from him. “I have two good hands.”
He couldn’t argue about that. He moved out of the way silently, leaning heavily on the stick.
Liya half-filled the bath and carried it over to the table. She propped it on the edge and swept dirty dishes and baby things out of the way, before she could slide the bath onto the table properly.
Evan lowered the baby into the water and supported her head. He trickled water over her chest as she kicked and cried. The volume of her cries seemed to drop a little.
Anar hovered over Evan’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong with her?” Evan asked, sounding broken and exhausted.
“I can’t scan her while she’s in the water, but she must cool down first,” Anar said. “How long has she been like this?”
“She didn’t sleep well last night,” Gelin said, sounding just as drained. “I didn’t think she might be sick, or I would never have gone to work.” The distress in his voice made Liya’s heart ache.
The thudding on the neighboring wall started up again and Gelin closed his eyes, hunching in reaction.
“We have to get out of here,” Liya said loudly, so they would all hear. “This place and the neighbors are not helping by a centimeter. Anar, can the baby travel?”
“To where?” Anar asked.
“The Aventine,” she said. “The walls there are soundproof.”
“I can treat her anywhere there is a print terminal,” Anar replied.
Liya nodded. “Good. Evan, dry the baby off and put her in something light and airy. Gelin, pack anything she might need for twelve hours, that can’t be printed.”
Gelin didn’t protest. His jaw didn’t tighten because she was interfering. Instead, he sighed and nodded, relief relaxing his shoulders, then turned away to do as she had said.
His defeat was more disturbing than the baby’s cries.
* * * * *
Liya palmed the lock and stepped aside, waving the three men to go inside.
“What is this place?” Evan asked, looking around the empty room. His voice reverberated.
“Liya has an agreement with the landlord,” Gelin said. He walked over to the stack of rigid storage boxes along the wall. He was moving more freely, depending on the staff less and less. Walking seemed to be doing him good. He kicked gently at the boxes. “Liya can store fabric here until he finds someone to take the apartment.”
“It’s huge!” Evan said, looking around the apartment as he rocked the baby. She was still fussing and whimpering. It was as if she had simply run out of energy to cry anymore.
Anar moved over to the kitchen counter and patted it. “Put her here. Let me scan her.” He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the portable scanner that all doctors carried with them, then put his screen on the counter next to the baby and switched it on.
Liya put the bag that Gelin had packed on the floor next to the counter. “The terminal in here isn’t switched on, although we can print anything we need from mine, next door.”
Gelin was watching Anar, the deep frown marring his forehead once more. Evan was rubbing his jaw and runn
ing his hands through his hair in quick scrubbing motions, which explained why it was standing on end.
Finally, Anar straightened and nodded. “As I suspected. It is a simple ear infection.”
“Simple?” Gelin repeated incredulously.
“She is crying because the infection is putting pressure on her ear drum. It’s very painful,” Anar added.
Evan blew out a shaky breath. “We did this to her?”
Anar looked at Liya. “I will need to print a treatment and some painkillers. It might be best to pierce the ear drum and let it drain, too, so I will need a few surgical items.”
All the color that had been returning to Gelin’s cheeks drained. He sat down suddenly on the crates. “How could we do this to her?” he muttered.
Liya wanted to go to him, only she didn’t know if he would welcome her. Instead, she went to the door. “I’ll let you into my apartment, so you can access the printer,” she told Anar.
Anar lifted Evan’s hand and put it on the baby’s tummy. “Keep her steady for a moment,” he told him. Then he hurried over to Liya and they walked around to her apartment door and stepped inside.
“Is it really a simple infection?” Liya asked Anar quietly.
“It is,” he said. “It is also something that can be easily missed in a child that can’t complain of an ear ache.”
“Except by screaming,” Liya finished. “Those poor men. They think they’ve completely failed as parents.”
“Most parents do. A child’s first illness is a rite of passage,” Anar said. He sounded completely unconcerned as he logged into his profile and tapped through menus and directories. There were a lot more choices than the average citizen had access to. “We could print out a crib for her, while we’re here,” he added. “They can’t carry her all the time. They’re both exhausted.”
“No need,” Liya said. She moved over to the bed and scooped up all the cushions and pillows and bolsters that made up the back of the “sofa”. “These are softer.”
“They are,” Anar said.
She picked up her light shawl from the shelf next to the bed, where she stored her clothes.
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