Gravlander

by Erik Wecks

  Soren spoke softly. “But you’re a doctor, Katy. You’ve lost patients before.”

  When she opened them, she pleaded with Soren. “I know, but you gotta understand …”

  Soren’s voice was calm, if a little fuzzy around the edges. “I gotta understand what?”

  Jo wished that all her sadness could flow across the space between them so that she wouldn’t have to articulate it. Words seemed such a hollow vessel for what she felt, and for a while all she could do was sob. Eventually, hollow or not, she spoke, quietly at first and then getting stronger. “I can’t let them die anymore. I let the Timcree baby die, and they kicked me out! I let Lt. Carter die in the Ghost Fleet, and I got reprimanded! I let the boy die on the station …”

  Jo suddenly felt as if a huge boulder was flowing up through her chest, threatening to strangle her, and it was going to surface here and now whether or not she was ready. Maybe it was the concern in Soren’s voice or her gentle expression. Maybe it was the fact that so many people from the crew came to drink with her. Whatever it was, she didn’t have the will to resist anymore.

  “And … and the little girl on Salvador … and I let my parents die, and now I’m alone. And I can’t be alone anymore.” Then she was wailing uncontrollably. “I don’t want to be alone anymore! I can’t let them die anymore! It hurts too much!” Jo had never experienced anything like it. Her body, against her will, let go, and she heaved out great waves of grief that she never knew she carried. She cried for her parents and her twin brothers, but most of all she cried for the little girl who grew up always feeling odd, alone, and unsafe.

  A warm hand appeared on her shoulder. Jo looked up and, through the haze, saw Vi. Her face was blotchy, and a tear glistened near her chin. Her voice was gentle but also carried a note of disappointment, as if Jo had hurt her. “But I’m right here.” Pointing around, she continued. “We’re all right here.”

  Waves of release washed ashore, and Katy sobbed again and again, and many in that room touched her gently on the shoulder or the arm. Some, like Vi, gave her hugs, hugs she eagerly returned, and after a while, Katrina was silent. No one asked more of her or demanded that she pull it together. Instead, they all just had another drink until the haze of blessed forgetfulness overtook the room.

  19

  A Plan

  Lying on her side, Katy first noticed the weight wrapped over her midsection. For a moment, her addled mind grappled with the basics of coherent thought. Several confused seconds later, Katy recognized the comfortable smells of her own bunk and blankets, and almost at the same instant, it became apparent that the weight on her midsection was an arm.

  Coherence vigorously reasserted its place. She gasped before she contained herself. Carefully, she looked down and breathed a sigh of relief. She was clothed in what appeared to be the same uniform she had been wearing last evening. Blood from her dead attacker still stained the front.

  Vague memories of crying, the crew comforting her, and brown bubbles of alcohol paraded by in no particular order. Alongside the memories, Katy realized that her head was intrusively pounding out the rhythm of her pulse. Meanwhile, it appeared that her stomach was contemplating an escape attempt up her throat.

  Katy slowly rolled over and saw Vi laying there, also clothed, eyes closed, and a thin grin spread across her lips. Without opening her eyes, Vi mumbled, “I feel like shit, and you hit it far harder than me. Your head must be pounding.”

  Katy reached up and rubbed one of her temples. “Yeah, I don’t feel so good.”

  Vi’s grin got a little wider, but she still kept her eyes closed. “Well, guess what, doc? Your clinic opens in forty minutes, and I won’t be the only one there asking for a hangover cure.”

  Katy started to move toward the edge of the bed, face pulled tight, trying to block out even the little light that crept under the door. “Forty minutes? How long did I sleep? Aren’t you supposed to be on shift or something?”

  Vi let her slip out from under her arm but didn’t make any move to remove herself from Katy’s bunk. “Captain ordered light duty today. We’re taking a day off.”

  Now sitting on the side of the bed, Katy grunted. Sitting up turned out to be a mistake. For a moment she sat still, letting her stomach regain its tenuous hold on its minimal contents.

  Now still, she plucked up the courage to ask the question most on her mind. “Vi?”

  Vi smiled even wider but still didn’t open her eyes. “Yes?” Something mischievous played at the corners of her tone.

  “Did we … I mean … how did we end up in the same bed?”

  “Well, I guess that depends on what you want to say happened. Maybe we did. We could say that if you want.” She peeked out at Katy with a half-open eye.

  Katy’s cheeks turned crimson.

  Vi started to laugh. Then she stopped, holding her temples and pulling her face tight. “Ow! That hurts … Nothing happened. You just didn’t want to be alone last night. It was your idea.”

  Katy didn’t know what to make of that. She’d never had anyone share her bed in her life. In fact, she barely tolerated hugs, but today it didn’t bother her. It was as if some new thing had hatched in her soul right before her eyes, tender and vulnerable. She felt lighter, as if the wind could just push her away. Yet it all felt a little too exposed to discuss. She really couldn’t think of a response to Vi, so she said, “I’m going to grab a shower. I’ll see you at the clinic.”

  Vi only nodded and pulled the blanket up over her head.

  Several hours later, Katy arrived in Captain Soren’s office feeling tired but much better. Soren was sitting behind her desk, lights turned down low. Katy put a small paper cup with two pills in it down on the desk.

  Soren looked up from the piece of electronic paper she was reading and grunted at the cup. “What’s this?”

  Katy shrugged as she sat down across from her in one of the folding chairs that had been brought out for the rest of the senior staff, who would arrive shortly. “Hangover cure from the auto-doc, perfectly tailored for your particular chemistry.”

  Soren just stared at the cup, so Katy went on. “You were the only one who didn’t show up at my clinic this morning, so I figured I would bring my potions and magic to you. That said, the one thing that the auto-doc can’t cure with a pill is dehydration, so as your medical officer, I encourage you to drink lots of water today.”

  Soren smirked as she emptied the paper cup into her hand and swallowed it with a sip of coffee. “Thanks, I was planning to get down there, but I figured the line was going to be long.”

  After she swallowed, she continued without looking directly at Katy. “I wanted to see you before the rest of the staff walked in.”

  Katy had an idea of what came next. She’d cost the ship a mission. She expected a talking-to at the least. Normally such a thing would send her into a terrifying bout of self-recrimination, but today felt different, as if criticism would slip away from her like ice on a wet counter.

  After a pause, Soren spoke again. “So what do you think about life aboard the Clarion so far? I have to confess, your first six weeks have been a tad more dramatic than is usual.”

  Katy tipped her head a little and raised her eyebrows. It wasn’t the question she expected. She smiled, willing to go along, but still waiting for her scolding. “So this isn’t the norm?”

  Soren looked at her seriously. “No.”

  Katy thought for a moment. What am I supposed to say? I’m doing great. I just screwed up a whole mission, but I’m good. She wondered if Soren wanted her to fall on her own sword. Something about that galled her, and she decided to refuse the invitation. She went on as if the day prior hadn’t even happened. “I guess I’m fitting in just fine. I mean, the job is a little too easy. Twenty-eight patients is really far too few for me, but I’m taking a few discreet consulting gigs through intraspace. That helps keep me from being bored.”

  Soren smiled. “I think that’s wise. It’s been a while since we had a
doctor on the boat, and the last one was, frankly, lazy. I’m not sure we’ve yet found the best use for you. It will take a little time. One thing is for sure, we will need to carry far more medicines on any food drops than we have previously. I want you to write me a list of the medicines you would like to have available for our encounters with the Omitted. I’m not promising that I can get it all, but I’ll do my best, so write it in priority order, and we’ll start from the top.”

  Katy sat back in her chair. “Really?”

  Soren looked genuinely surprised by the question. “What?”

  Katy’s voice rose in volume and pitch just a little. “Here I am expecting to come into your office for a conversation about how I cost the ship a mission, and instead you ask me to write a list of medicines that I want on hand?”

  Soren smiled. Her eyes twinkled. “Not what you wanted? Well, I hate to disappoint, so let me ask a more expected question. How’re you doing today? Last night must have been … hard.”

  One part of Katy appreciated the concern. Another part wasn’t ready to relive the pain of the night before. She was enjoying the peace she’d found in the aftermath and had no intentions of going back there if at all possible. She smiled but had no doubt that it didn’t carry to her eyes. “If you’re talking about my embarrassing sobfest last night, I’m fine. I wouldn’t put too much stock in the ravings of a drunken lunatic.”

  Soren matched Katy’s smile with an equally stiff one of her own. Katy also thought she noticed an almost imperceptible frown at the edges. “Well, if that’s what you think about what happened, you aren’t going to get much benefit out of it, but I guess that’s for you and your therapist to talk over. Anyway, that’s not what I saw last night. What I saw was someone being incredibly vulnerable and open and honest about what they thought and felt. That’s what I saw, and it was a privilege to be there.”

  Katy shifted in her seat and pulled down on her jumpsuit. “Yeah, I guess oversharing can be a side effect of too much alcohol.”

  Soren gently sighed. “I guess that’s true, sometimes, but I think in this case you’re giving too much credit to the alcohol. I saw a person who was looking for a safe place to let down her guard, if even for a minute, and if the alcohol allowed it, then that’s a win in my book. I hope you found out that you have a family here.”

  Katy looked down for a second before speaking. She knew that she was at great risk of oversharing like she had last night, but something about Soren’s treatment bothered her. Soren had been irritatingly accommodating, and Katy suspected there was a price to pay. She decided that she would rather know what it was up front. “The truth is, all of this makes me really uncomfortable. Well, that’s not the whole truth. I mean, this morning I felt great, but I keep waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “For reality to set back in. All this makes me so uncomfortable.”

  Soren sat back and put her arms behind her head, a slight grin on her lips.

  Katy felt the knot of irritation grow, but she quickly stumbled forward anyway. “I mean, not you personally, but everything you’ve done for me. You’ve put your life at risk twice for me. You paid for the licenses for my surgeries. That had to have cost a fortune. And then you had my new identity put into the system—another fortune—and what do I do to thank you? I wreck a food handout. You have to be upset about that, but if you are, you aren’t showing it, and instead you’re asking me to give you a list of medicines. What’s the catch? What do you want from me?”

  Soren waited, still with a slight smirk. “Is that all?”

  Katy took a deep breath, trying not to lose her quickly ebbing sense of peace. She managed to keep her voice calm. “No. I don’t like the way you’re taking this. It hurts to see you sitting there smirking at me. You’re putting me down.”

  Soren sat up and removed her hands from behind her head. She leaned forward, any trace of humor wiped from her face. “I’m sorry, Katy. I don’t want you to think that I don’t care that this is uncomfortable for you. I do, and I understand. I understand it more than you will ever know. Someday I will do the drinking, and you can listen to my story, but that’s not for right now. Just understand that I’m smiling because I’m impressed. Dare I say, proud of you? Your capacity for vulnerability and honesty will save you. So I’m not smirking at you. I’m amazed. Do you understand?”

  “No, not at all. How will vulnerability save me? Vulnerability has only hurt me. It just brings more pain.”

  Soren took a slow breath. “Yes, that’s true, but have you ever considered that vulnerability is a necessary part of every good moment?”

  Katy just stared at Soren, her face blank.

  “Think about it. Every good thing carries with it the potential to lose that good thing, and that is vulnerability. If you spend your life running away from vulnerability, you can’t ever experience anything good.”

  Katy shrugged, feeling her emotions rise. Unexpectedly, she felt like crying, a sensation made all the more frustrating because it shattered the peace she’d had all morning. Katy swallowed hard. “I guess I see your point, but all the vulnerability and good stuff doesn’t take away the fact that I owe you a huge debt that I can never repay. From my point of view, you own me, for the rest of my life, and to be honest, I don’t want that. It wrecks my freedom, but I guess I’ve run out of options. It makes me feel really uncomfortable.”

  Soren was already shaking her head as Katy spoke. “No, Katy, I don’t think you do see my point. I don’t own you. I don’t even want to own you. In fact, more than anything, I want you to own yourself. For my part, we’re family. That’s the point. You have to be vulnerable to feel loved. If you try to pay me back, you aren’t being vulnerable.”

  Katy raised her voice. “Why? What do you want from me in return?”

  Soren only smiled. “Why? Because you’re part of my crew, and that’s the way I run my ship. We’re a family. Because a long time ago when I needed a family, someone provided me with one, and I set out to do the same for others.”

  Warm tears dribbled through Katy’s eyelashes. “But everything you’ve done for me, all that time and effort, being late leaving Tortuga, changing your route, all of it. It’s not fair to anyone on the ship.”

  This time Soren nodded seriously, considering Katy’s concerns, although the twinkle played again at the corners of her eyes. “Actually, on that point, I must beg to disagree. It is eminently fair. It is, however, not equal in any way.”

  Katy pushed down hard on the anger tightening its grasp on her ribs. She just managed to stay polite. “What do you mean?”

  “Just this: What I have done is perfectly fair to everyone on this boat, because each and every one of them could expect similar treatment in the same circumstances. However, I admit that you cost more to bring into our family than anyone else has, so it is certainly not equal, but it is definitely fair.”

  Katy started to speak, but Soren stopped her by holding up her index finger and talking a little louder. “And you’re worth it. You are worth everything I’ve paid and much more.”

  Katy opened her mouth then shut it. Her eyebrows lowered to a point above her nose. Tears flowed freely now. “But I can’t see myself like—”

  A knock interrupted her. The captain’s eyes bored into the door as if she wanted to burn holes in it. She turned to Katy and spoke quietly and quickly. “In a family, you don’t owe people. This is just what we do for each other. Don’t pay me back, Katy. Love yourself, and pass it on to someone else.” Without giving Katy a chance to answer, she looked up and said cheerfully, “Enter.”

  The door opened, and Todd Gartner carried in a tray of sandwiches.

  Katy quickly wiped her face. She felt grateful for the intrusion. She wasn’t at all sure how she would ever be able to live up to what Soren had done for her. It seemed impossible, a lifelong task. Maybe that’s the point, she thought.

  A couple of minutes later, Katy sat quietly munching on a sandwich while the rest of the
senior officers trickled in. Inside, she was busy burying her tears and getting control of herself. Soren let the group settle in a little. Once the sandwiches made the rounds, she brought her staff meeting to order. She didn’t smile.

  “Well, I can’t say that the last few weeks haven’t been rough. First we got screwed on the Mt. Fuji thing, and now the Swazi Mining Division has refused to pay us. So we end up with two containers half full of food we can’t sell and no recourse with the transportation board because it was an off-books drop. I’m not going to lie to you, folks. It’s getting a bit thin around here. The way I see it, we can keep in the sky for a while yet, but we don’t really have any margin for error right now. We have to make some coin, and soon. I’m open to ideas.”

  The room fell silent. Jo’s heart sank back into her chest. She blinked hard. Glancing around surreptitiously, Jo noticed that no one was looking at her. In fact, there didn’t seem to be any blame in the room. It was one thing for Soren to give her a pass, but to know that the whole senior staff did as well made a huge impression. Jo started to relax, but then she saw again the livid man rushing at her to punch her, and she still felt responsible.

  Neela spoke up, although in a subdued voice. “There is a legitimate way to make money, Captain.”

  Soren was already shaking her head before Neela finished. “We’ve already talked about this, Neela. I won’t run weapons or components for the military.”

  Neela held her palms up. “I’m not talking about all the time. I’m just saying that the bulk goods and consumer goods we carry aren’t a priority for the Unity. They don’t pay. A few military shipments in amongst the rest would go a long way toward helping.”

  Soren closed her eyes and rubbed her cheeks. “Those contracts are highly competitive with tight deadlines and nasty late penalties and non-performance clauses.”

  Neela didn’t back down. “All the more reason we should take them. The capabilities of this ship—”