Mindline

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  "Not... precisely."

  She chuckled. "Well, I won't keep you with maundering stories. It's just my habit to show up for the first bad trauma one of our newbies experiences. I find it helps head off the kind of heroics I attempted as a shiny new physician."

  "I had wondered why you were here," he admitted.

  "And now you know." Levine smiled. "So keep my offer in mind."

  "I shall," he said. "Thank you. And good night, Doctor."

  "Good night, alet."

  It was reassuring to know he wasn't the first person to earn Levine's personal attention following a major event. And yet, as much as he wanted to believe that comprised her entire motivation, he felt as if she was staring at him as he walked away.

  Chapter 6

  Starbases, Vasiht'h concluded after only a few hours on one, were glorious. He'd thought Seersana cosmopolitan, and it was. But it was also the Seersa's homeworld, and any population on it was bound to be weighted heavily toward the world's native race.

  Starbase Veta did not have that handicap. Walking through the port to reach one of its Pad stations, Vasiht'h saw more variety in species than he had in a year at Seersana University. Possibly two. Or all four. Nor was that the only difference; there most of the people he'd been exposed to were academics, and the general population was skewed toward young adults. Here he found people in every stage of their lives, and in every seeming profession, including the Fleet personnel he'd rarely had cause to encounter though he knew, intellectually, that Fleet comprised a significant percentage of the workforce. He'd had a retired Fleet roommate once, who'd explained that to him—something about it being less a military organization and more the Alliance's exploratory, ambassadorial and emergency response team—but he'd never cared to learn more.

  Now… now he was curious.

  His hotel was in the major civilian settlement on Veta, which surprised him again by not being a welcome station writ large. He'd been expecting metal corridors and exposed ducting, like something out of a 3deo space opera. Instead, he walked off the Pad into the middle of a plaza beneath a sky as brilliantly blue as any planet's, complete with a breeze that brought him the smell of flowering plants, a perfume strong enough to make him sneeze.

  "New here?" someone said behind him. He turned and found a middle-aged Hinichi woman regarding him, wolf-like ears cocked forward.

  "Was it my flabbergasted expression that gave me away?" Vasiht'h said, smiling.

  "Let's just say I've seen it before." She grinned. "Will you take some advice from an old hand?"

  "Absolutely!"

  "Have a walk through the city," she said. "And if you're staying for long enough, book yourself one of the tourist train rides. The base is worth seeing in its entirety."

  "I'll do that," Vasiht'h said, grateful.

  After checking into his hotel, he spent an hour wandering through the market district. He had no idea what was supplying the sun on his shoulders or the breeze through his fur, but it was all believable; he found himself forgetting he was in an artificial environment at all. Sitting at an outdoor café over a cup of kerinne and a pastry, he brought up a map and studied the results. If this was correct, the starbase's wall bisected the city, separating its port and commercial docks from the living area. The Fleet base ran the length of the starbase through its interior, and if the u-bank entry was correct, it should be visible in the "sky"—Vasiht'h looked up, squinting into the light, and saw a faint white arch traced against the blue, like a distant cloud. Except clouds were rarely so regular, nor did they hold so still.

  The tourist train rides, he read, actually traveled the breadth of the starbase, running through tunnels in its skin. There were multiple options, from single-destination excursions to farming and resort habitats to grand tours spanning multiple days. His fingers hovered over those, but regretfully he chose one of the shorter options that passed two of the closest bubbles and permitted a one-way ticket. He could Pad back and make his connection to Selnor.

  While heading for the rail station, he wrestled with a brief sense of guilt that he could be having so much fun when who knew how hard Jahir was working; probably to the point of exhaustion, if his academic career on Seersana was any indication. But if the Eldritch had been here, he would have been the first to be out investigating the environment; knowing that, Vasiht'h went to his explorations with a light step. He would bring back stories… and surely there would be time for a vacation, and he could bring Jahir here in person.

  The trip was breath-taking. The train's sides were floor-to-ceiling flexglass, and the tunnel it traveled in was transparent; it spent part of the journey hugging the external skin, affording an amazing view of the uncompromising beauty of space and the ships gliding through it. The other part it spent flush to the internal wall, showing either the staggering size of the hollow interior and its massive spindle clustered with Fleet warships, or the lush habitats for farming or vacations, one of which even included a body of water large enough that Vasiht'h couldn't see its edge. 'For farming aquacultural goods,' the flexglass's datafilm reported when he asked.

  "Why is it so big?" he asked one of the train's employees when she came by with a drink cart.

  "Oh, it's the supercolliders," she said. "Fleet builds these things as service depots and command posts for the ships in the sector. All their ships come here to refuel, and this is the smallest size they can make them to meet the requirements for the super-colliders." She smiled. "We have another tour that runs alongside the colliders. You can't see the reaction, of course, but they're covered in lights that signal their status and when something is happening. We call it the Dancing Lights trip." She offered him a tray and he picked out a cup of hot chocolate as she continued, "The Fleet leases out the merchant space, and of course no one can think of a safer place to do business than under the nose of one of their biggest presences in the sector. So wherever there's a starbase, all us civilians follow, to support the merchant traffic."

  "It must be a very exciting place to live," Vasiht'h murmured.

  "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

  He glanced up at her, but she was already moving on.

  The next few days in the crisis care section were grueling, but the work... the work was compensation. When Jahir could stand back from it, the memories that spilled through him were lightning, had the suddenness of shock and joy. He was good at what he did, even crippled by the gravity, and despite a pace too hectic for him to truly relax into each case he could tell how vital his role was in the emergency setting. Somehow he made it to the end of the week, and Jiron and Radimir were awaiting him at the conclusion of his shift.

  "Sit," the human said. "We know you're tired, so we'll keep this brief." He nodded at the Harat-Shar. "Raddie tells me you've settled in."

  "I think I have the rhythm of it," Jahir said, and sat, though he very much feared that he would not be able to get up again without aid.

  "Looks like you've had some ups and downs," Jiron continued. "Including some low-down downs?"

  "Doctor Levine already discussed the death with me."

  The looks the two exchanged—far too tense to also be so chagrined, and too quick to suggest comfort with the problem.

  "Should she not have?" he asked.

  "It's not that," Radimir began.

  "And it's not important," Jiron said firmly, though more as admonition to the universe to conform to his command than statement of fact. "Do you need any counseling in that regard?"

  "No," Jahir said. He drew in a breath, a slow one, knowing by now that he would manage it no other way. "It was distressing, but I have known worse."

  "All right," Jiron said. "I'll take you at your word. Otherwise, you seem to be fitting in with the crew. They speak well of you. Tomorrow's your rest day—use it well, all right?"

  "I plan to."

  "Good." Jiron stood. "I'll check on you next week, same time."

  After the human left, Radimir said, "Need help?"

  "No." Jah
ir stood, carefully, paused to make sure there would be no dizziness. He added, rueful, "Though it is a near thing. Alet? Was there aught I should know?"

  "Ah?" The pardine glanced at him, ears flicking forward.

  "About Doctor Levine."

  The Harat-Shar's ears sealed back. "Mmm. No. She's just... a very driven individual." He ran a hand over his head, fluffing up his hair and his ears on the way back toward his forehead. "A lot of the humans are when they come here. Like they have something to prove. It makes for culture issues."

  "I see," Jahir said, though he didn't. It was not the explanation he'd been expecting, though he could sense the truth of it.

  "Don't worry about it, alet," Radimir said. "Just concentrate on the work. That's all that matters anyway."

  What Jahir wanted to do with his day off was catch up on his correspondence, see some part of the city that did not involve the hospital, and maybe pay someone else to make him a meal. What he ended up doing... was sleeping. He woke in early afternoon, and that only because the sun was on his cheek. Sitting up, he assessed himself, and the time, and thought better of going out.

  But a swim, he thought... that might be salubrious. Particularly if he wasn't doing the exercises Aralyn was working him through every day. He found his gym bag and made his way there. The usual groups were at the pool; he'd noted various patients with their therapists on his visits. His own was nowhere to be found, which was fine with him. He changed in the dressing room and went out to the water, and there he floated and found some relief from the stress of holding himself up.

  The rocking of the water around him warned him that he was not alone, and he opened his eyes to find Paga floating nearby. The lower half of the Naysha's eyes were submerged, and even knowing he had a clear eyelid, Jahir found it strange. But he smiled and said nothing.

  Paga rose and clapped his hands in a pattern that drew the attention of some computer the Alliance had hidden God and Lady knew where. When he signed, a holographic translation floated itself alongside him.

  /The water called you./

  "Yes," he said, startled into responding. And added, "I had no idea something could translate for you without aid."

  /Necessary. Not everyone reads sign. Many people come here. Do not like it. Lacks the nuance Shellie gives./ The Naysha wrinkled his nose. /Makes me sound like a robot./

  Jahir laughed, then covered his mouth. "My apologies. That was inappropriate. It's just—"

  /True./ The Naysha slapped the water for emphasis. He was smiling. /Good to see you here./

  "I like it here," Jahir admitted. He tried to sort through his feelings, found them opaque—like the sea, he thought. Impressions, but only hints of something vast and deep and powerful beneath. He looked at the Naysha. "Not just because it helps me."

  /Thought so. But you hold back./

  Jahir frowned at the words as they faded, then looked at him. "I read that right?"

  The Naysha sighed, and it was strange to hear a sound out of his mouth. He shook his head. /Lacks nuance. You love the water?/

  Jahir touched the surface with a palm, felt the buoyancy of it like the descant of a hymn, lifting him with it. He exhaled, closing his eyes. "I think I must."

  The tapping on the water drew his attention. /Go,/ Paga signed, pointing at one of the doors that lined the hall. /There. Number ten./

  "Must I get out?"

  /Go./ A smile. /Worth it. Promise./

  "All right."

  Leaving the water was a physical pain. His entire body protested, and the water that sheeted off him felt like a layer of clothing that sloughed off and left him naked. He paused for a moment, half afraid he would fall back into the pool, and then trudged to the room the Naysha had pointed out.

  Inside, he found... another pool, if a smaller one. Perhaps the size of his bedroom in the new apartment. He was studying the bottom when Paga appeared in it, startling him. The Naysha grinned and clapped again to summon the computer.

  /Has tunnel. Necessary. This is a consultation room./

  "A... for you and a patient?"

  /For private talks./ Paga pointed at the door. /You can lock. There is a monitor, but it is vital signs only./ The Naysha tapped his chest. /So to alert if something happens. If you lock, then no one can come in. Not even me. Only override is if computer senses you are having a health crisis./

  "A private pool," Jahir murmured.

  Paga tapped the water, a more gentle request for attention. /You,/ he signed. /May love the water in a way I understand. Maybe. I don't know. You don't know. You can't know, until you meet the water. Here, you can be alone with it./ He lifted his chin, alien eyes steady. /I come back in one hour./

  And then the Naysha was gone. Jahir peered into the water, and the tunnel was now shut by a door the color of the pool's walls, but there was a green light glowing on it. He sat on the edge of the pool and looked up at the ceiling. "Computer?" he asked, hesitant. "What's my heart rate?"

  "Current heart rate," a soft alto said, "is one hundred seventy two beats per minute."

  He winced. Well, at least he knew it was monitoring him. "Lock the door, please?"

  "Door now locked."

  He glanced at the door; like the one in the pool, it had a light indicator, which now shone red. The one beneath the water did too.

  Paga had brought him here... to be alone with the water. To meet the water. He wondered at the alien's motivations, and also didn't care enough to waste any time on them. He stripped the bodysuit off and went to the pool... and found it good. Better than anything he could remember feeling. The water was warm and buoyant and close without inflicting any emotional response on him at all—save his own, and it was relief and a recognition that welled forth from his cells, from something older than them.

  His family, the Galare, were scattered along several estates, but the Seni Galare made their home inland. On reaching his majority he'd taken to traveling with his parents, and then his mother when his father had died, to the royal palace twice a year, for the formal courts... and Ontine was on the coast. But it perched on the edge of a sea cliff, and with the shore a day's journey down and around the worst of the crags, he had never had the time to go. But he had always found comfort in the sound of the sea. And of the rain, too, at that. Water, he thought. A great kindness, a companion, a friend. He rested his head on his folded arms on the side of the pool and thought only enough to instruct the computer to warn him when his hour was done, and then he was silent, and fell into the feel of the water on his skin.

  When Paga returned, the doors were unlocked and Jahir was waiting on the side of the pool, fully dressed. The Naysha cocked his head and waited.

  "Thank you," Jahir said, quietly to be so emphatic.

  The alien smiled and signed one of the few things Jahir had learned: /You're welcome./

  That happy hour was on his mind the following day when he found Healer Gillespie awaiting him at the pool with Shellie Aralyn and Paga floating.

  "Healer," he said, coming to a halt across from them.

  "Alet," Gillespie said, studying him. She squinted and folded her arms. "When Shellie told me, I didn't think it could be possible, but it's true. You aren't eating."

  "I do," he began.

  "But not enough." Though the Hinichi's ears remained canted forward he could just glimpse the annoyed twitch of her lupine tail. "You've shed four or five kilos if I'm not wrong."

  He had no idea how much weight that represented, but from their expressions it was enough to be a significant concern. He certainly hadn't noticed any loss, but then the hospital's standard issue had been loose on him when he arrived, and from his observation it was designed that way on purpose. "I have perhaps been too tired to pay much attention to it."

  "You're going to have to start paying attention to it," Gillespie said, "or we're going to run smack into the problem we're trying to avoid by failing to administer another course of the acclimatization regimen. Alet, it doesn't matter if you cannibalize your
body because a drug set goes wrong, or because you don't eat enough to sustain your activity level... the result's going to be the same."

  "I did not think it would be so serious," he said, startled. "I am eating more than I usually do—"

  "Are you also usually training for an athletic competition while hauling once again your weight around?" Gillespie said tartly. "Because that's the effect being here has on your system. And I'm only slightly exaggerating." She held out her hand. "Give me the bracelet."

  Mystified, he slid it off, and noticed then how easy it was to do so. Frowning, he dropped it onto her palm.

  "I've been doing some experimentation and I can't make any medical record on you stick for longer than a few hours," Gillespie said. She shook the bracelet. "However, this can be programmed for patients without hitting the records database. And I am going to set it to alarm every few hours, at which point you will go to a genie, enter your metabolic disorder, which you will note is handily inscribed in the metal, and it will generate something for you that you will eat. And I can keep tabs on you by setting up a dummy record for an Anonymous patient with no species, and I will. By this time next week I want to see your cheeks filled out. Understood?"

  "Yes, alet," he said, meek.

  "Good," she said. "I'm going to go set this up—" She jingled the bracelet. "You stay put with your therapists."

  After the Hinichi left, he touched his cheekbone with his fingertips.

  "It really is that noticeable," Aralyn said, her voice regretful. "I'm sorry, but even if I hadn't said anything to her she would have noticed."

  Paga patted the water and signed. Aralyn said, "And yes, Paga's right. It's her job to notice... and mine to say something. We're your team. We're supposed to be looking out for your health."

  "I know," he said. And added, rueful, "I have made my own trouble, I fear."