Sage had said the doctor had been a friend, implying a close friend. Maybe the man had been a confidant for him, someone he didn’t have to be the perfect leader for.
“I suppose it’s funny,” Tala said, “because I’m not like Juanita and definitely didn’t want this adventure, but if it didn’t mean saying goodbye to my home forever, I’d definitely consider your offer. I’ve noticed—it’s just pure medical knowhow and surgical skill here, isn’t it? People get hurt, and you patch them up. Kind of like being an ER doc, though even that’s not without drama back home.”
“Drama?” He paused, turning to look at her.
Tala almost closed down, shaking her head and refusing to explain more, as she’d done with Indigo and Katie. But he’d been stuck in those meetings with his superiors and his government leaders for hours, and he’d come out frustrated. He’d been driven to rebel. Maybe he would understand what she’d been through.
“In my world, at least in my country, money is power, and there are a lot of corporations with a lot of money, and that gives them sway over our government, our policymakers. Right now, there are a lot of policies in place to protect the interests of those corporations, among them, pharmaceutical companies. They make insane amounts of money from the drugs they create, and there’s a lot of pressure among doctors to prescribe their latest drugs, even if the tests run to prove their efficacy were sponsored by the makers of the drugs themselves. Every day, I was doing heart surgery on sick and inflamed people who were on multiple prescriptions that were, at best, masking symptoms, but were more often endangering them with side effects. The drug companies like to say they’re helping people, but I’ve had some of the more honest reps admit to me that they want people to be sick, to get prescriptions for patented drugs that they’ll be on for the rest of their lives. That’s where the money is. The sad thing is that almost all of these diseases people get treated for are strongly linked to metabolic derangement. Lifestyle and dietary changes can treat that more effectively than drugs can, but there’s no money in telling someone to relax, sleep more, and stop eating so much factory-made crap.”
Tala realized she was speaking quickly and loudly—ranting, as her last boss had called it—and made herself stop before she dove too far down the rabbit hole. At least Sage was watching her and listening. Her colleagues had been so tired of hearing her rants that they’d either rolled their eyes or fled when she approached.
“I, of course, had no trouble telling the people I operated on about those things in post-op, but they’d go back to their regular doctors, get a pile of fresh prescriptions, and do nothing to change their lifestyles. I was getting more and more frustrated at not truly being able to help the people who came to me, and my opinions didn’t make me popular with my bosses and colleagues. I could have dealt with that, but one day, we had an eighteen-year-old fit, athletic kid in who needed a heart ablation, and I got in a fight with another doctor who wanted me to prescribe him a statin afterwards, because he had mildly elevated cholesterol, so clearly he was going to have other heart problems anytime now.” She shook her head. “It got out of hand, and I ended up quitting. I went up to Flagstaff to take some time off, with a vague idea toward going back to school to practice functional medicine and help people who were interested in getting to root causes rather than popping pills to mask symptoms. There’s not much money in that, but—” She shrugged. “By that point, I figured I’d made enough to fulfill my mom’s wishes for me. I became a doctor because it was what she wanted. We were poor when I was growing up, and my older brother is a screw-up who’s usually in jail. Dad died early, and she wanted someone to make it out of our shitty neighborhood, to have a good life. I intentionally picked a specialty that I knew would be lucrative. I suppose that doesn’t make me any better than those pharmaceutical companies, but with surgery, I knew I was saving lives. Eventually, I was able to buy Mom a little house a few blocks from the beach, and she smiles, and calls me her greatest success.” Tala swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat. “I haven’t told her yet that my leave of absence was intended to be permanent, but I’m hoping she’ll understand.”
Tala stared bleakly down at the desk, realizing her cat wasn’t the only reason she needed to go back home. She still needed to explain things to her mom. It was amazingly easy to keep secrets from someone who was two thousand miles away, even when they talked every day.
She looked up at Sage, thinking to apologize for delaying him. She hadn’t meant to share all that and was surprised she had, but once the rant started, she hadn’t been able to stop it. Maybe that was why she didn’t usually start talking about herself.
Of course, everyone else who knew her thought she was nuts for walking away from such a lucrative job. Somehow, after living in the same place for almost ten years, she hadn’t found time to make many friends who weren’t also colleagues and weren’t also a part of the same system.
“What did you want to be?” Sage asked softly.
“A concert violinist,” Tala said promptly.
He lifted his eyebrows.
“It’s a musical instrument. I suppose you don’t have them, since they’re only a few hundred years old, but I started playing in school as a girl. For years, I used a violin the teacher lent me, until I could scrimp enough money together to buy a used one. I played all the time when I wasn’t studying.”
“You loved it.”
Tala hesitated. “I came to love it. In the beginning, I played because it drowned out the noises in our apartment building. When I was playing, I couldn’t hear my parents arguing, or my brother and his loser friends making fun of me, or the neighbors shouting at each other. It was always an escape. First from noise, and later from everything. When I was playing, it took me somewhere else. Somewhere quiet and relaxing. I used to write music in school, too, though there wasn’t much time for that after I went into med school and then started working.”
“It’s unfortunate that your kidnappers didn’t also kidnap a violin so you could play here.”
Tala wasn’t sure if that was a joke, but she smiled at the notion. “So I could have an escape from your ship? From its demanding captain?”
“Especially its captain.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ve heard he’s a pain to work for.”
“Yes, and even though he knows that, he had the gall to offer me a job.”
“He has no shortage of gall.” Sage’s logostec beeped, and he looked down. “We’re almost to the gate. I need to get to the bridge.”
He picked up the box of belongings he had filled, adding the stress ball and picture-displaying device to the top.
“How will I know if you need to be relieved of duty?” Tala asked, wondering how anyone went about doing such a thing.
“I’ll bring Lieutenant Coric up to the bridge and let her know to call you if I don’t seem to be myself.” Sage nodded toward the holographic display of research. “Thank you for working on the problem, and for the other help you’ve provided since coming aboard. Also, I apologize for arguing with you on the bridge. You were right. I shouldn’t be ordering you around.”
Surprised by the admission, Tala shifted to lean her hand against the desk for support. Except, she missed the desk and almost fell over. Fortunately, she caught herself on the bulkhead before pitching face-first into a trashcan.
“Unless you decide to stay here and work for me,” Sage added, drawing back his hand.
She realized he’d reached for her, but stopped short of grabbing her when she’d righted herself without help. She supposed it was good to know that he would have kept her face out of the trashcan if needed.
“Are there any fringe benefits?” she asked.
“I’m afraid it’s unlikely you’ll be buying houses for family members on Star Guardian pay. But Eridanus will share your exploits with his eighty thousand followers. Perhaps you can parlay that fame into something lucrative.”
“It’s ninety thousand, he tells me.”
/> “It’s grown since last quarter then. It’s possible he’s the most famous AI in the Confederation.” Sage inclined his head and stepped toward the doorway leading back into sickbay.
“Captain?” she asked.
“Sage,” he corrected, turning to meet her eyes again.
“Sage. What did you want to do when you grew up?”
“Defend humanity from the Zi’i and become a decorated soldier like my father.”
“So, you’ve gotten exactly what you wanted out of life?” Tala ought to be happy for him, but it was hard not to feel a twinge of envy for someone who had done all that he wanted and found the place he desired in the universe. She wasn’t sure she had realized until that moment that so many of her frustrations stemmed from having done exactly what her mother wanted her to do with her life.
“We have a saying that goes, you can get everything you ever wanted and not have what you need.” Sage smiled cryptically and walked out.
5
Before returning to the bridge, Sage stopped at his quarters to drop off Svetloka’s belongings. He was also considering all that Tala had shared with him. He’d been surprised that she had opened up that much. It had seemed that she needed someone to talk to, but he marveled that she’d chosen him. Maybe because he’d stuck his nose into her office and pestered her. He was glad he’d managed to get that apology out without fumbling it. Apologies weren’t something he had to utter often these days, and they had never come easily for him.
Too much pride, no doubt. His mother frequently told him he was much like his father, and he was fairly certain it was only meant as a compliment about half the time.
“Eridanus?” Sage asked, pausing on his way out of his quarters.
“Do you no longer require privacy, Captain?”
“No. I require—no, I have a request. You’ve seen the data in the handheld computers some of the women brought with them, right? Can you try to find out what a violin is for me? And how to make one?”
Sage wondered what Hierax would think if he asked him to make a musical instrument. Hierax often said he could make anything. Granted, that generally applied to things with gears and circuit boards. Depending on what exactly the instrument consisted of, Zakota might actually be the one to ask. He could carve out of wood or bone magnificently, though hardly anyone actually admitted that to him.
As he left his quarters, Sage almost ran into Orion. His brother, arms bare and scarred, shaggy hair pulled back in a bun, always managed to look disreputable. Their mother’s words rang in Sage’s mind, and he reminded himself that Orion had proven himself reputable when dealing with the slavers and rescuing the women. If he hadn’t disarmed that bomb the slavers had intended to throw at the Falcon 8, Sage and the others might not have flown away from that planet, at least not in their own ship.
It was strange to admit that. Sage was used to thinking ill of Orion for being kicked out of the military and choosing a profession that involved slaying criminals. He’d read more than one report about a Star Guardian being slain by bounty hunters who didn’t care if the people they hunted down were criminals or not. So long as someone was willing to pay.
But Orion, as he was learning, hadn’t been someone like that. And he wasn’t as anti-establishment as Sage had always believed. He seemed to genuinely be considering the job offer he’d received from High Command, to join the Star Guardians.
“Sage,” Orion said, slowing down and nodding warily.
He looked like he’d been on the way past Sage’s quarters, not coming to see him. Orion had been doing a good job of avoiding Sage since coming aboard. Not that Sage had gone out of his way to be inviting to his brother.
“Orion,” he said, his tone probably just as wary.
After so many years of pretending Orion didn’t exist, Sage didn’t know how to go forward with his little brother. In truth, he barely knew him. More than twenty years ago, when he’d had breaks from his studies at the military academy, he’d gone home to visit Mom, and he’d played with young Orion. But once he’d been commissioned and the war had started, there’d been no time for visits. He hadn’t been able to get away from work to go to Orion’s graduations, neither from school nor the military academy. He’d sent a congratulatory message for the last one, having a notion that they might end up serving together someday, and that Orion might make a name for himself in the space fleet, as their father had done. Their other brothers hadn’t felt the call of military duty, and had their lives in the private sector. Sage had been pleased when Orion had followed in his footsteps, but then disappointed when he’d been dishonorably discharged. Who wouldn’t be?
“Going to tell the ship what’s going on?” Orion asked. “It’s been a whole half hour since anyone’s shot at us. People are wondering if the universe is going to end.”
“Yes.” Sage intended to make a ship-wide announcement before they flew into the wormhole. Though he’d been keeping his crew in the dark in regard to his disobedience, he had to warn everyone about the nebula. “We’re entering the Cronos Nebula as a shortcut. I want you to sequester the women in the rec room again and put a guard on the door—Ensign Thangi.” He’d already said he would get Lieutenant Coric on the bridge, and Ensign Thangi was the only other female Star Guardian.
“I’m going to forgo pointing out that you don’t have the right to give me orders unless I agree to sign on with the Star Guardians, though I suspect that offer is null at this point. Instead, I’ll say, the Cronos Nebula? Are you nuts? Even insane criminals with no minds to lose don’t go in there.”
“We won’t stay long, and I’ve made arrangements to have the crew monitored. We need to confine the women where they can’t become collateral damage. I trust that you can take care of them.”
“You—now, you randomly trust me? After giving me hell when I first came aboard?”
“You’ve proven yourself trustworthy.” Sage frowned. He’d meant the words as an olive branch. He could easily pick someone else to carry out the duty, but he wanted Orion to know that he no longer believed he was disreputable.
“Well, isn’t it nice of you to sit up on your captain’s chair and pass judgment over me. I was always trustworthy, Sage.”
“Trust is something you have to earn, especially when—”
“When what? When we never see each other? That’s not my fault, buddy. You’ve always been too busy to make time for your little brother, and I noticed you got particularly busy after I was kicked out of the military. You and Dad both.” Orion pushed past him, stalking down the corridor.
Sage wanted to snap back that Orion had never gone out of his way to make time for him either, but they were running low on time now, and having family arguments wouldn’t get anything done.
“You will see to the women?” he asked. “Or do I need to get—”
“I’ll do it,” Orion snapped and disappeared around a corner.
Sage sighed and headed in the opposite direction, to the bridge. He wondered if he and his little brother would ever see eye to eye.
• • • • •
“Dr. Tala, are you in here?” a familiar voice called.
Tala was still in the sickbay office, alternating between examining the limited data she had and wishing she hadn’t burbled out her life’s story to Sage. Of all the people she could have chosen as a confidant, why him? So far, she’d felt she could stand toe-to-toe to him in any arguments, but now he had… well, ammunition if he chose to use it that way. Granted, he’d never lashed out at her or shown any indication that he would attack her verbally. He was just obstinate and bossy, and he expected her to be one of his minions.
“In here,” Tala said, pushing herself to her feet.
She startled when she noticed the view screen on the wall, one she’d originally mistaken for a porthole. Later, she’d realized it was the equivalent of a flat-screen television, displaying the view of some camera on the ship’s exterior. Right now, it showed a big silver-green donut hanging in the black s
ky, the light of some distant sun illuminating it.
It had to be one of the wormhole gates. It was her first time seeing one, though she’d experienced the unpleasantness of traveling through them several times now.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it seemed to simply float in space, distant stars visible through the donut hole. It looked like a hoop one might teach a dolphin to jump through rather than some portal to another solar system. It also looked like the ship would sail through that hole very soon. Tala’s stomach flip-flopped nervously as she imagined dealing with men made crazy from some weird space sickness.
“We’re supposed to round you up,” came Juanita’s voice from the main sickbay chamber.
Tala stepped out of the office and almost bumped into her. A low rumble came from behind her—one of the svenkars. Angela stood beside the animal, and Lieutenant Treyjon stood behind her. Orion leaned in the doorway while reading something on a display floating above the logostec on his wrist.
“Round me up?” Tala asked.
“Sage wants all the women put in the rec room where they’ll be safe,” Orion said.
“Apparently,” Juanita said, “we’re entering—”
“Attention, crew and guests,” came Sage’s voice over the intercom. “We’re about to enter the Cronos System, which contains part of the Cronos Nebula. The nebula has an unknown factor that affects the minds of men and, to a lesser extent, women. All non-navigation-essential crew are confined to quarters. Guests will stay in the rec room. Two of our pursuers are less than an hour behind us, so it’s possible we’ll be followed. Crew must be prepared to take battle stations if necessary, but we hope to avoid conflict with other vessels while in the system.”
“And conflict with each other,” Treyjon said. “I’ve heard of this place. Nothing good.”
Sagitta: Star Guardians, Book 3 Page 5