by Kit Walker
Asha opens the clinic's front door just in time to hear a woman's voice shout, "You son of a whore!"
As she enters the back room, the details she takes in are, in order:
a. a tall marcor woman with a gun, evidently quite agitated,
b. Vaz, standing near the aforementioned woman with a gun, evidently quite distressed,
c. a young, injured marcor on the other side of the room, currently being pulled up off the floor by
d. a much older marcor who appears to be the primary target of the gun-wielding woman's ire.
"Um," Asha says. "Wow, okay."
Vaz steps in front of the woman, blocking her shot. "Ragna, calm down."
"Stop it, Vaz," Ragna snarls. "Get out of my way."
"No," Vaz replies, strained. "Nobody's killing anybody in my clinic. Aldegar, take Edric and go."
"Nope," the older marcor replies. "You've got some explaining to do, kid."
"Shut up, old man!" Ragna turns her glare on Vaz. "I trusted you. And all this time you were with him!"
"I'm not 'with' Aldegar!" Vaz insists. "I'm not 'with' anybody!"
"Is that so?" Aldegar says. "After everything I've done for you?"
Vaz groans. "Would everyone please just calm down and listen to me?"
Asha glances over her shoulder. "Ysal? Little help?"
Ysal gently pushes Asha out of the way, strides into the room, and clears her throat with a sound like a handful of gravel being dumped into a blender.
An abrupt silence falls over the clinic. Everyone turns to stare at the big alien lizard.
"Please take your disagreement outside," Ysal says calmly. "This is a medical facility."
Ragna's the first to recover; she turns her gun on Ysal and says, "Stay out of this."
Ysal moves too fast for Asha to really comprehend. In the blink of an eye, one of her huge hands clamps around Ragna's wrist, wrenching her arm back so the barrel of the gun is pointed at the ceiling. With her other hand, Ysal extracts the gun from Ragna's grip and holds it distastefully between her thumb and forefinger.
"I will keep this, for now," she says, releasing Ragna's wrist. "Leave. I will not ask again."
Ragna levels Vaz with a parting glare that could melt steel and stalks out the front door.
Asha looks around the room. Aldegar and the kid are both gone; they must have bailed when nobody was looking. "Not to stick my nose into your personal business or anything," she says, "but what the hell was that?"
Vaz doesn't answer. He's still staring at Ysal, not out of fear, but with something that looks a lot like relief and wonder.
"Hello," Ysal says. "I am Ysal sai-Vysri. I am pleased to meet you."
Vaz snaps out of it, shaking his head. "Um. Hi. I'm Vaz." He looks at Asha. "Sorry about the, uh, violence. It was a misunderstanding."
"Hell of a misunderstanding," Asha says. "Did you ask both of them to the prom or something?"
"What?"
"Never mind," Asha mutters. "I'm guessing those two were ... what? Crime bosses?"
"Ragna ... runs the neighborhood," Vaz says. "Colonial security doesn't really bother with the West End, so she's in charge, more or less. And Aldegar has been trying to move in on her territory for years. And both of them may have been under the impression that I was, uh, aligned. With them. Exclusively."
"Ah," Asha says.
"I treat everyone who comes through that door," Vaz says defensively. "I'm not going to let someone die because they're wearing the wrong color."
Ysal tilts her head to the side. "If your life is in danger, we can—"
"No!" Vaz interrupts. "Thanks, but ... don't worry about it. It's my problem." To Asha, he says, "We should get started on your procedure. If you're ready."
"Are you sure?" Asha says. "If the Sharks and the Jets had a showdown in my office, I'd take the day off. We can reschedule."
"No, I'm sure. I'm all set up, it's fine."
"If you say so," Asha says, and lets Vaz lead her over to the operating area.
•
Wayfarer's command deck is a huge elliptical room with a high, domed ceiling. Recessed workstations form long trenches in the floor, radiating out from a raised, circular platform in the middle of the room. From that platform, Asha could theoretically see what each and every crew member was doing, if the ship actually had a crew. Instead, the only other occupant of the room is Laela, and she's currently burrowed under the helm console, fiddling with the cables and swearing because the left-side touchpad stopped working an hour ago.
"So the captain's just supposed to stand here?" Asha asks.
"I assume so," Laela replies, slightly muffled under the pile of parts and tools. "I've never bothered with it."
"Are all Sentinel ships like this? What if the captain wants to sit down?"
"I don't know. Maybe she gets one of her underlings to fetch a chair."
"There should at least be a safety rail or something." Asha sits on the edge of the platform, legs dangling. "This is a horrible accident waiting to happen."
The anesthetic has mostly worn off, but Asha's still a little floaty. And for the first time in far too long, her head doesn't hurt. It's wonderful.
There's a crackling noise, and a thump. "Sisterfucking piece of shit!" Laela yelps.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Obsolete fucking Sentinel shitware." Laela emerges from under the console and shakes out her hand; the fur on her fingers is mildly scorched. "By the time I'm done replacing it all, it'll be time to start over again." She glances up at Asha. "How's the new implant?"
"Well, I can understand your swearing now, so ..."
"Great," Laela says. "The palladium's all loaded up, so unless your head explodes or something, we'll leave in the morning." She slides back under the console. "If I can get the helm fixed."
"What about Vaz?"
"What about him?"
"It doesn't feel right," Asha says. "He's obviously in trouble, and we're just ... leaving."
"The guy managed to piss off two rival bosses at the same time," Laela replies. "He's clearly an idiot. If he dies, that's just natural selection at work."
Asha rolls her eyes. "What was he supposed to do? Refuse treatment to people who needed it? Vaz did the right thing."
"Uh-huh."
An alert sounds from the console next to the helm, and a message pops up on its screen.
Asha says, "Are you going to get that, or should I?"
Laela carefully disentangles herself from the helm and hops into the other workstation. "It's from colonial security," she says, scrolling through the message. "'Please be advised' blah blah 'incident in the West End' blah 'by reading this message you acknowledge that we do not accept responsibility for injuries, thefts, or property damage if you choose to ignore' blah — oh, shit."
"What? What's wrong?"
"It's the clinic," Laela says. "The clinic is on fire."
•
The clinic is still burning when Asha and Ysal arrive. Colonial security is nowhere in sight, but a group of civilians have cordoned off the area and organized a bucket chain.
Most of them are wearing red.
Asha spots Ragna moving down the line, directing the group's efforts to contain the blaze. "The clinic's a lost cause!" she bellows. "Just make sure it doesn't spread!"
"Hey!" Asha jogs over and grabs Ragna's arm. "Where's Vaz?"
"No idea." Ragna shakes off Asha's hand. "We've got bigger problems. Either help or fuck off."
"What, this wasn't you?"
Ragna gives her a look, thoroughly unimpressed. "Was that a joke, or do you seriously think I'm dumb enough to light my own neighborhood on fire?"
Asha takes a step back. "Sorry."
Ragna scrubs her hands over her face, streaking soot through her beard. "Listen," she says. "I could not have less of a fuck to give about Vaz right now. Aldegar's the one you should be worrying about. He's with the Hand."
"The what?"
"The Hand
! The Veiled Hand!" Ragna looks Asha up and down. "You're not a Sentinel, are you?"
"Uh ... no."
"Then I'm done talking to you." Ragna spins on her heel and wades back into the chaos. "Alaric! How's the evacuation coming?"
Asha turns back to Ysal. "What's the Veiled Hand?"
"Possibly the most dangerous crime syndicate in the galaxy," Ysal replies. "Certainly the most widespread. And they do not respond well to perceived betrayal. I would suggest finding Vaz before they do."
"And how do we do that?"
Ysal sniffs the air, then turns and makes her way down the street, head down, scanning the ground. She stops at the mouth of the alley that runs behind the clinic, where a spot of red-brown has stained the dirt.
Asha says, "Is that blood?"
Ysal bends down, opens her mouth, and inhales. "Yes." She lifts her head and sniffs again. "This way."
•
Vaz swears quietly to himself and contorts so he can slap a bandage over the deep cut on his upper back. He turns and watches in the tiny, cracked bathroom mirror as the bandage seals to his skin and turns transparent.
Clear is good. Clear means the wound isn't infected.
Vaz tugs his shirt back on, tucks the emergency medical kit back under the sink, and stumbles out of the bathroom, exhausted.
His apartment is basically a closet with a bed and a shower — and the bed goes largely unused — but he should be safe here. Ragna doesn't know where Vaz lives, and neither does Aldegar. He just needs to keep his head down until ...
Until what?
Vaz's ears are still ringing from the firebomb that set the clinic ablaze, but he manages to pick up the sound of footsteps coming down the hall outside.
A second later, there's a knock on the door.
Vaz glances at the window. Too small to escape through. Damn.
Another knock. "Vaz? It's Edric. I just want to talk."
Vaz moves to the door, hesitates, then opens it.
A punch hits him right below the ribs. Vaz doubles over, winded and dazed, as a large, bulky marcor pushes his way into the room and shoves him against the wall.
"Ivar," Vaz gasps out.
"Vaz," Ivar replies cheerfully, and punches him again.
Edric stands in the doorway, hands in his pockets, dejected. "Sorry, Vaz," he says. "Aldegar's orders."
Ivar unsheathes the knife on his belt. "Close the door and wait outside, kid."
For a second, Edric looks like he's about to say something, but instead he closes his mouth and steps out into the hall. The door closes.
Ivar presses the knife against Vaz's face, right below his eye. "Nothing personal, Doctor," he says. "I'll make it quick."
Out in the hall, something goes thud.
Ivar pauses. "Edric?"
No answer.
Ivar steps back. "Stay there," he snaps, gesturing with the knife. He slides the door open about a hand's width, peering out into the hall.
A long, gray arm reaches through the door, grabs Ivar by the face, and drags him outside.
There's another thud.
Ysal appears in the doorway. "Hello, Vaz. Are you injured?"
Vaz sags with relief and slides to the floor. "How'd you find me?"
Ysal taps her nose.
Asha Reed squeezes past Ysal, into the apartment. "Grab your shit. We're leaving."
Vaz pulls himself to his feet. "Where am I supposed to go? The clinic's gone, Aldegar clearly knows where I live ..."
"We can offer you passage aboard the Wayfarer," Ysal says.
Asha coughs. "Is Laela going to be okay with that?"
"I will speak with her."
"I can't just leave," Vaz says. "I'm the only doctor on Dagrun who doesn't work for the company. My patients need me."
"If you stay on this planet, you will be killed," Ysal points out. "Your patients will lose you, regardless."
"And if you're dead," Asha adds, "you can't help anyone else, anywhere."
•
Night has fallen by the time Vaz, Asha, and Ysal enter the station at the bottom of the space elevator. The lights are off, and there isn't another living soul in sight.
"Oh," Asha says. "This is bad, isn't it?"
Aldegar steps out of the darkness, with a half-dozen marcor at his back. "Vaz."
"Aldegar," Vaz says. "Please, give me a chance to—"
"Open fire!"
Ysal grabs both Asha and Vaz and drags them behind a pile of crates as a hail of bullets rips through the air.
"Did he turn the lights off just so he could make the dramatic entrance?" Asha wonders aloud.
The gunfire abruptly stops.
"Sivari!" Aldegar shouts. "Whatever the kid is paying you, I'll double it!"
"You misunderstand," Ysal calls back. "I am not a mercenary." More quietly, she adds, "At the moment."
"Then let me put it this way: hand over the dhovar, and I'll let you and your friend live."
Vaz opens his mouth to say something; Asha claps a hand over his face. "Nope."
He pulls her hand away. "But—"
"Nope," Asha snaps. "I am done leaving people behind. No stupid sacrifices allowed. You're coming with us."
Asha's comm beeps, and she digs it out of her pocket. There's a new text message from Laela:
Incoming. Play along.
At the far end of the station, an elevator opens its doors. Laela peeks around the edge of the doorway and waves.
Then her voice comes bellowing out of the station's PA system: "Attention! You have attacked a Sentinel officer! Drop your weapons, now!"
Asha says, "Oh, fuck."
Vaz squints at her. "But you're not a—"
"Shh!" Asha leans out from behind the pile of crates. "You heard her! Back off, now!"
Aldegar doesn't budge, but his entourage lowers their weapons slightly and shuffles back a few steps.
Asha clears her throat and straightens her posture. She once had to work a summer job as a UBC science camp counselor. A whole summer spent wrangling sullen, resentful teenagers with access to expensive scientific equipment. Compared to that, this should be easy.
"Dr. Vaz is a person of interest in an ongoing investigation," she announces. "He is in my custody, and the rest of my team is en route to this station. Stand down, or be destroyed!"
For a long, agonizing moment, Aldegar doesn't move. Then — slowly, skeptically — he lowers his gun and backs away.
Asha grabs Vaz's shoulder and steers him toward the elevator. Ysal follows along behind, covering them.
"Is this really working?" Vaz whispers.
"Maybe. Don't look back."
They all pile into the elevator, and Asha only relaxes once Laela closes the doors behind them.
Laela leans against the wall, clearly trying not to laugh. "'Stand down or be destroyed'?"
"Oh, shut up."
•
Once they board the Wayfarer, everyone leaves Vaz to his own devices.
He wanders the ship until he finds the medbay, up on deck two, then drops his bag on the desk and collapses into a chair, closing his eyes.
Vaz isn't sure how much time passes, but the next thing he knows, someone is flicking his ear. He cracks his eyes open, and Laela backs away a step, crossing her arms.
"Don't sleep here," she says. "If you need a nap, we can find you a cabin."
"Sorry." Vaz sits up and rubs his eyes. "Do you need anything?"
"Just checking in," Laela replies. "We left Dagrun's orbit about fifteen minutes ago. All clear, I guess."
"Okay." Vaz takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Thanks. For letting me come aboard. I'm sorry I got you involved in ... that."
The corner of Laela's mouth twitches. "You have an uncanny talent for pissing people off. I'm not even mad anymore, I'm just impressed."
Vaz shakes his head. "Why wouldn't anyone just listen?"
"Because Dagrun is a shithole."
"Okay, yes, thank you for stating the obvious."
> "I'm serious." Laela uncrosses her arms and rubs the back of her neck. "Place like that ... you have no family, no real friends. The bastards running the place treat you like you're disposable, because you are. Anyone who wants to survive has to find an 'us.' Something to belong to. And if there's an 'us,' then there has to be a 'them.'" She gives him a rueful smile. "And no room for anything in between. Sorry."
Vaz leans back in the chair and sighs heavily. "So. What now?"
"We're making a stop at Onorine, and then we're headed into the hub worlds," Laela says. "We can drop you off somewhere, or ..." She coughs. "Well, it's recently come to my attention that I'm an inadequate medic, so I guess we could use a ship's doctor. You interested?"
Vaz isn't quite sure what his emotions are doing. "You sure you want to fly with a dhovar doctor?"
"As long as you're willing to fly with a telian captain." Laela shrugs. "If not ..."
"No, I — I accept."
"Okay. Good to hear." Laela turns to leave, then pauses. "And try not to piss off any more enormous criminal organizations. We really don't need the hassle."
•
The rat is much more amenable to being handled than Asha initially assumed. She seems content to run over Asha's hands and climb all over her lap while Asha sits on the floor of Ysal's room.
"What's this show about, anyway?" Asha says.
"Ostensibly, Shadow Games is a historical piece about the prewar period," Ysal says. She isn't really paying attention to the screen and is instead watching the rat. "However, most of the plot focuses on the interpersonal drama of a wealthy hirovan family."
"So it's a soap opera."
"At no point does any character sing about cleaning supplies," Ysal says. "Have you given it a name?"
"What?"
"The rodent. Does it have a name?"
Asha shrugs. "'Rat.'"
"That is ... accurate."
"My dad always said there's no point naming an animal that won't come when you call it. We had three cats, and two of them were named 'Cat.'"
"And the third?"
"'Kitty.'"
Rat crawls up onto Asha's shoulder and perches there, eyes fixed on the video screen.
"Well, at least one of us is entertained," Asha says. She glances at Ysal. "Can I ask you something kind of personal?"