“You’ve been in there, sir?” Zakota glanced back.
Sage almost told him to focus on what he was doing, but they’d slipped past the two ships and were pulling away now, arrowing toward Gate 498.
“Yes, as an ensign in the fleet long ago. There’d been reports of the Zi’i using the system as a back door to get at our bases. Fortunately, we didn’t find any aliens in there, but it wasn’t a pleasant trip.”
“Sedatives is all you’ll need from me?” Tala asked, standing up.
Sage had moved nearer to the chair as he’d been talking and was surprised at how close they were. He caught a whiff of a pleasant scent. Some shampoo she’d found? He didn’t recognize it as the one the ship dispensed.
“Unless you want to take a stab at finding an antidote or some kind of prophylactic,” he said.
“Have many tried before?” A gleam entered her dark eyes. Would she relish the challenge?
There wouldn’t be time to linger in the system, so he doubted she could make much progress, but he wouldn’t forbid it.
“I’m sure the doctors on those early explorer and military ships would have tried,” Sage said, “but as I said, the policy of the Confederation has been to simply avoid the system. There are other wormholes leading to the destinations on the far side.”
“Hm.”
At her thoughtful expression, Sage promptly decided he would command the ship’s AI to help her in any capacity she wished.
“Women are known to be less frequently affected,” he said. “If the other doctors were male, that might give you an advantage.”
“Oh? That’s interesting.”
“Two hours to the Cronos gate,” Zakota said. “At this moment, it doesn’t look like any other ships in the system can catch us to intercept. Unless one comes out of the Cronos gate, but that’s about as likely as Ku cracking a joke.”
“Good,” Sage said, then laid a hand on Tala’s arm. “That gives you time to prepare. Research if you wish, but don’t forget to prepare the sedatives.” He realized he should probably also tell her that—
“Please,” Tala said.
“What?”
“I’m not in your command. I would appreciate it if you asked me to help instead of ordering me to. And said ‘please’ when you did it. And ‘thank you’ if I agreed.”
“I assure you, this is for your own good. You don’t want to see a ship full of strong, well-trained Star Guardians that have lost their minds in a very aggressive way.”
“I have no doubt, but that’s not my point,” Tala said, her voice cool. Her eyes bored into his, and she clearly expected him to relent, to agree that she was right, that a ‘please’ would be civil.
He silently acknowledged that she was right, that she wasn’t one of his crewmen, but he bristled at someone telling him that he was acting inappropriately, especially in front of Zakota.
“If you do not wish to help us get your people home,” he heard himself saying, “then I will simply have the medical robots handle the sedatives.”
Tala seemed to realize he was still touching her arm, for she jerked it away from him. “I understand that everyone on your world thinks you’re something special,” she said, her voice low, her eyes blazing, “but that doesn’t give you the right to be an ass.”
He stood stunned for a moment. Nobody called him an ass. Not even the admirals at Headquarters.
But, she wasn’t wrong, was she?
“Dr. Tala,” Sage said, lifting his hand to apologize, realizing that he’d spoken foolishly. No, asshole-ly.
But she spun and strode toward the door. At first, he was stunned. People didn’t stomp away from him when he was talking. But he recovered and stalked after her, determined to get his apology in.
But the door opened, and he caught site of Ku standing in the same spot. The man was usually as expressive as a rock, but his eyebrows twitched as Tala strode past.
Sage halted before he reached the doorway, realizing how silly he would look if he chased Tala down the corridor, calling apologies over her shoulder.
The door slid shut, and he let it. He would apologize to her in private later. He still needed to tell her what he’d started to tell her. Before he’d gotten so stiff and stupid. What had gotten into him?
Tala’s angry, blazing eyes flashed into his mind, and his groin stirred in response. Abruptly, he knew exactly what had gotten into him. His subconsciousness wasn’t so subconscious after all, not if he was aware of it, and of the problem. As he’d suspected earlier, he liked it when she stood up to him, and without quite knowing he was doing it, he’d goaded her into getting angry. Because it aroused him. She aroused him.
“Idiot,” he grumbled to himself.
Ten wasn’t the age he should have assigned to his subconsciousness. More like thirteen. The beginning of the horny years. Years he’d thought he’d left behind him long ago.
“Want me to add some extra blessings to your talisman, Captain?” Zakota asked.
“What?” Sage asked, still staring at the door, mostly because he didn’t want to stride around the bridge with a noticeable bulge in his trousers. Even if Zakota was the only one around and probably wouldn’t look at his crotch, it was unseemly.
“You know, instead of just luck. I could consult Po and channel some of her powers into the talisman. Make you alluring to women. And maybe smoother with them.”
“Just get us to the damned gate, Zakota.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zakota sounded far too perky and amused.
4
“I am perfectly capable of navigating the ship while the human crew slumbers,” Eridanus’s voice came from the ceiling overhead, from some speaker invisibly integrated into it. It was his third time saying something similar. “There is no need for you to expend so much energy researching, Dr. Tala.”
“I like research,” Tala said, as she pored over the notes and charts floating in a holographic display above the desk in front of her.
She sat in the small private office adjacent to sickbay, trying to ignore the fact that the sparse decor—a potted plant, something that reminded her of a stress ball, and a cube displaying digital family pictures—had belonged to someone who was now dead. Apparently, there hadn’t been time for anyone to clean out the last doctor’s effects and send them along to his family. Or maybe that was the duty of the replacement doctor. Not a very cheery way to start a new job.
“Thank you for figuring out how to translate everything into English,” she added.
Perhaps a compliment would distract the ship’s AI from continuing to interrupt her. It—he—seemed vain.
“A simple task, Doctor,” Eridanus said. He did sound pleased. “Your language is far more similar to Dethocolean than the languages of many of the human home worlds. And compared to Zi’i or Alabaster, it’s extremely simple to learn.”
“We’re a simple people,” she murmured.
“I’ve often found humans most complex and highly irrational.”
Tala couldn’t argue with that. She thought of Sagitta, hardly able to believe he hadn’t been willing to throw a ‘please’ to her. She shouldn’t have stalked off in a huff, but she’d found the whole incident confusing. He’d been almost friendly with her as he invited her to sit in his chair and explained the nebula to her. Finally, someone had explained something to her. She’d been in the dark the entire time she’d been aboard the ship.
And then when she had stood up, he’d touched her arm. There hadn’t been anything untoward or suggestive about the touch, but for some reason, she had noticed it. She’d even had an urge to step closer. How ridiculous. He was a trying man, at best.
“The notes of doctors who previously visited the nebula and tried to figure out the problem are sparse,” Tala murmured as she read. “Did none of them think to test the hormone levels and neurotransmitters of the affected personnel? Is there any other information available, Eridanus?”
“Not in the Star Guardian database, which co
ntains all the information in the space fleet files. There’s a node buoy in this system, and I can access the public records. Allow me to download everything with references to the nebula and the mental state it causes.”
“Thank you.” Tala leaned back in the chair. “What’s a node buoy?” She trusted the AI could run searches while answering questions at the same time, and that she wasn’t slowing him down.
“A satellite that houses repositories of data. Node buoys have been placed in orbit around centrally located planets in all of the major systems where humans have settled. Because of the distance between systems, it would be impossible to have an up-to-date data network that spans the entire Confederation without some creative measures. Each of these satellites stores copies of all the public data and also much of the private data available on the network, but because information can’t be sent through the wormholes without getting a ride on a ship, they can only be updated when a ship carrying new information comes into the system and transmits it to them. Seventy-three years ago, the Confederation passed a law that all military ships would carry servers that gathered information from populated planets and stations and transmitted it to buoys while traveling into systems. This means that in populated systems that are visited or traveled through frequently, network information is rarely more than a few hours out of date. In more remote systems, the buoys may only be updated monthly.”
“So if I lived in one system and had a website that I updated daily, most people in your Confederation would be able to see the updates the same day while those in more remote systems would have to wait a month or more for my wisdom?”
“That is correct. Do you have a website?”
“No.”
“I do. I am the only Star Guardian AI that has realized humans would be interested in following the exploits of our ship and crew.” Eridanus sounded smug again. “I have over ninety thousand observers monitoring my updates.”
Tala blinked, finding the idea of a computer keeping a blog odd. “Are you updating it now?”
She imagined Sage being horrified to learn that his ship was sharing his plans with the rest of the galaxy.
“No. I’m only permitted to update the site once a mission has been declassified and the facts are available to the public. Some missions are never declassified. I suspect this may be the case with this one.” Eridanus’s tone changed to one of sadness. Did he truly feel emotions? Or had he been programmed with this personality by someone with a sense of humor?
“I have gathered the data you requested, Doctor,” Eridanus said. “There are many fictional accounts of adventures romanticizing the nebula. I am filtering those out. There are few scientific studies that have been added to the public record. There is a travel advisory suggesting civilian ships avoid the system completely and stating that tow vessels will not enter it to rescue an inoperable ship.”
“So, I need to conduct my own research on hormones and neurotransmitters?”
“It would seem so. It’s possible military doctors did so in the past, but that their logs aren’t available at our level of security clearance.”
“Aren’t Star Guardians pretty important in the Confederation? Wouldn’t Captain Sagitta have a high security clearance?”
“He does have an Alpha-75 clearance,” Eridanus said. “It is likely that if he had requested access to the files a few weeks ago, he would have been given it, but I suspect his privileges are suspended currently.”
A knock sounded on the door. No, on the doorjamb. Sage was standing on the threshold of the small office. The ship’s doors slid open very quietly.
“Doing research on me?” he asked, an eyebrow rising.
“Your ship’s AI was letting me know why we may not have complete access to all the files related to that nebula and the illness you mentioned,” Tala said, refusing to feel embarrassed for having been caught asking about his clearances. “And also that he has a popular Facebook page.”
“A what?”
“Facebook is a social networking platform on Gaia,” Eridanus informed the captain. “It is not dissimilar to our citizen networks.”
Tala looked curiously toward the hidden speaker his voice came from.
“You are not the first of your people to mention it,” Eridanus said, sounding a tad smug again at his display of knowledge.
“I see,” Sage said. “Enact privacy mode.”
Eridanus made a parting beep—did the beep sound huffy?—and did not comment further.
Tala wondered if the command would keep the AI from eavesdropping in this office, or if it only meant Eridanus would not interrupt their conversation.
“What can I do for you, Captain?” Tala asked, remembering that she had a reason to be irked with him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until you raced past sickbay, shirtless and wielding your favorite knives.”
She expected the comment to startle him—she’d read that a similar event had happened in the first military ship’s visit to the nebula—but he must have gone over the same files, because his expression only grew grim.
“That is what I came to see you about,” Sage said.
“Shirtlessness?”
“I’ve been to the Cronos Nebula before, as I said, and I thought you should know… I was not impervious to the affliction.” His eyebrows drew down, and he frowned, as if it pained him mightily to make this admission.
“It sounds like not many were.”
“Not many men, no. Some of the women were unaffected, or only mildly affected.”
“That sounds like a clue to me.”
“Yes, to me as well, and I welcome you to research it, but my primary concern is passing through as quickly as possible and nothing more.”
“Understandable.” Tala would gather what data she could during their journey. She could always analyze it after they’d safely passed through.
“Good. Because I have this weakness…” There was that look of displeasure again. It must vex him to admit to a weakness of any kind. “It would be irresponsible of me not to take measures to ensure the crew’s safety, should I become incapable of rational command. I’ve alerted Lieutenant Commander Korta to be on guard—his people develop symptoms but not ones that affect their mental stability. I’m also telling you, so—well, I’d like to formally give you the power to relieve me of my command if you deem it necessary.”
Startled, Tala rose from her chair to face him. “Can you do that? I mean, I’m not—I’m just a visitor here.”
“You are the most qualified medical person aboard the ship right now.” He offered a faint smile, meeting her eyes briefly, before looking to the desk behind her. The smile faltered. “I hadn’t realized Svetloka’s belongings were still here. I’d ordered—well, I guess we all got distracted by the slaver mission.” His gaze lingered on the pictures cycling through the display device, and his voice grew softer. “I did record a message for his wife. He was a friend as well as a crewman.”
Tala didn’t know what to say, or if she was supposed to say anything to the haunted expression that flickered through Sage’s eyes. “It’s hard to lose people you know well.”
“Yes.” The haunted expression disappeared behind his more typical mask. “I’ll box up his belongings so you have more room to do your research.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
He stepped forward, and she realized he meant to do it right there. Himself. She had expected him to send some underling to handle the task.
She stepped aside so he would have access to the desk.
“You can call me Sagitta,” he offered, grabbing a small crate with a few bottles of medicine in it, emptying it, then opening a drawer. “Or Sage. You’re not in my chain of command. Unless you’d like to be.” He managed the slight smile again, meeting her eyes.
“Uhm, what?”
Had that been a job offer? And did he have the authority to make such an offer? From what she’d heard, the Star Guardians were elite forces, and one didn’t simply apply to join th
em. Though maybe having a civilian doctor on board wouldn’t be out of the norm—it might be hard to find someone with extensive medical training who could also jump through all their physical hoops and slay aliens with one hand tied behind one’s back.
“You seem to be learning about the ship and the available medical equipment and drugs quickly,” Sage said. “Orion and Treyjon already asked if their new ladies, Miss Angela and Miss Juanita, could be invited to stay aboard as civilian experts.” His tone turned dry. “Since they have such unique talents and could be assets to our ship.”
“You don’t sound like you believe that.”
Tala was surprised one or both men had approached the captain—Sage—with the idea. The last she’d heard, Treyjon and Orion had been saying they would be willing to return to Earth if that was what they had to do to stay with Angela and Juanita. Maybe neither man truly wanted that.
“It’s not Star Guardian policy to let the crew bring their girlfriends or wives aboard the ship for any reason,” Sage said, “but if those two would rather stay in our part of the galaxy than return home, I’m not opposed to giving them a ride back to Dethocoles. I will find it extremely ironic if all the women I’m risking my career over decide they’d rather live in the Confederation.”
“I don’t think that will be the case. I know that even Juanita and Angela want to be able to see their families again. I’m not sure either would be willing to leave Earth forever.”
“Ah. And would you?”
“Be willing to leave it forever? I didn’t want to come out here at all.”
“Ah,” he said again, more softly, his eyes focusing on his task of removing personal items from the drawers.
“I would think you could get a far more qualified doctor than I for your ship,” Tala said.
“Perhaps. It’s clear now that I should have done so immediately after we lost Dr. Svetloka, but we got so busy that I didn’t have time to go through the files of the possible replacements.” He paused, his hand on a knickknack that looked like the kind of thing a kid made for a parent in art class. “Looking back, I may have been making excuses, but I wasn’t quite ready for a replacement. Which is foolish, of course. We go into battle all the time. The medical robots are capable in many ways, but we need an experienced doctor on board.”
Sagitta: Star Guardians, Book 3 Page 4