Fox lay on his bunk that afternoon. He was worried about Runningbear. They had known each other their whole lives. They had a strange on and off again relationship. They'd been good friends as kids, but by junior high that had soured. Runningbear's family included more than it's share of alcoholics and substance abusers. By the time of their first real fight, Fox's dad had had run ins with about half of Runningbear's extended family. Most people on the reservation figured Dad had been as fair as he could be with Lily Prancingdeer, but there were those that blamed him for what happened.
After they fought, Fox had cleaned up his act. He joined the navy after high school, intent of becoming a Master of Arms and eventually returning home to follow in his father's footsteps. Runningbear had joined the navy a couple years later, as part of a plea bargain on a drunk driving conviction.
When Runningbear was assigned to Fox's ship, the Cambridge, the two had made their peace. The new, adult, sober Runningbear was a hard worker and a good sailor. For awhile Fox counted him as a friend again.
Things had changed a couple of months ago. Or maybe it had changed long before that and Fox only noticed a couple of months ago. Runningbear had never been the most outgoing or friendly sort, but he'd turn downright surly. There were other, more ominous signs. The first moment that Fox could pinpoint was a breakfast on the Cambridge. Runningbear was flushed, his pupils wide. He was complaining about something, something far too petty for the reaction he was having.
Fox's father was a cop and Fox a master of arms. Suspicion ran in the blood. He made some enquires, quietly, and discovered Runningbear's immediate superior had noticed a change as well. His work had become sloppy. At times he seemed out of it.
Fox was torn. He didn't want to go to the captain without proof. Any accusation could have devastating effects on the man's military career. Then he'd over heard a conversation between Runningbear and fellow sailor. He had heard only a snatch of "yeah, I might have some left..." but it was enough for probable cause.
Runningbear worked munitions. When the alarm had sounded, Fox had been off duty. He should have headed down below but he took the opportunity to go to the crew quarters instead and confirm his suspicion. A small bottle of pills in Runningbear's trunk with someone else's name on them.
He should have gone to his chief of security, or to the captain. However friendship, or at least history, demanded that he confront his former friend and tribe brother first, give him a chance to explain. A chance to go voluntarily into drug treatment, keep it off the record.
The pill bottle had been in his right hand when the munitions locker had exploded.
"You are a million miles away," Clower commented from his bunk.
Fox shrugged. "Yeah," he agreed. Without the pill bottle he had no proof. In the current situation, was there any point in pursuing this?
He sighed and rose. Maybe he should confront his friend. Or maybe I should just leave it.
Fox left his room and stood in the hallway. He wasn't sure where to head, but his stump was starting to itch and maybe he should check in with the healers. It beat brooding in his bunk about things beyond his control.
He found, to his surprise, Captain Lannister coming down the hall. He paused and tried to salute, again. Lannister grinned and gripped his shoulder. "It's okay. Gonna take some time to get used, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," Fox said.
"Does it hurt?" Lannister asked.
"No, sir," Fox said. "Well, it's starting to itch now. I was going to see the healers."
"Of course, I won't keep you," Lannister said. "I am on my way to find someone else anyway. But can we talk a moment?"
"Yes, sir," Fox replied.
"How are you holding up?" Lannister asked, gesturing at the stump.
"You know, I don't think its hit me yet. Maybe I'm in shock, or maybe it's because their technology, it doesn't hurt hardly. I guess I will have to deal with it eventually but right now..." he trailed off. Was he brooding over Runningbear's behavior because it was easier than dealing with his lost arm? Probably.
"I have a question I need to ask," Lannister said.
Fox froze.
"Yesterday, when the alarm was called," Lannister said. "You weren't in the lower hold."
"No, sir," Fox said. He wondered if this was his opening. "I was... investigating something." Lannister watched him closely. "I don't have evidence... I don't really want to say anything without it."
Lannister nodded. "I trust you, Fox. In fact I am hoping I can trust you to keep an eye on the men."
"For what, sir?"
Lannister shrugged. "Just how they are coping with this transition. I am worried. I don't want any incidents."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. We have a good crew, I know that. And this crew up here, I think they are good people, too. But I know how unstable the politics down below are. We can't lose our heads. Just keep an eye on things and report anything you think I need to know. Same goes for what you were investigating, okay?"
"Yes, sir," Fox responded.
"Good, I need to talk to Oleson. Carry on."
Fox saluted with his left hand. Lannister returned the salute and then headed down the hall towards Dan's room.
#####
"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Dan asked, saluting Lannister.
"Yes, Officer Oleson, I did. I understand you wanted to talk to me, too."
"Yes, Sir."
"I wanted to talk to you about Chief Petty Officer Walker," Lannister said.
Dan relaxed. "Sir, that's what I was hoping to talk you about, too. They said they'd notify me if there was any change in her condition."
"There hasn't been," the captain said. "I was by her medi-bay just after the debriefing. She's stable..." he broke off. He closed his eye, fighting off the vision of the body floating in the tank.
"Sir?"
"She's stable," he repeated. "They have her in one of those tanks of theirs. They say they can repair most of the damage, in time. Lots of time. She's awake, even."
"That's great news, Sir."
"That's the good news. She's blind. They say in that tank she doesn't feel much. I suppose that's good news, too. I shudder to think of the pain she would be in otherwise. Anyway, they think it would do her good to have visitors. It can get disorienting, not being able to see or sense things like normal. But she can hear and they have it rigged up where she can talk."
"I was hoping I could visit her. I will go at once, if you think that's okay, Sir."
"Yes, I think so. You can check with the healers first if you want. She's in Bay 37, it's right down the first corridor, near the forward bay. Lana, that's the healers name. Check with her."
"Thank you, Sir. With your permission," Dan snapped a salute.
The captain returned the salute. As Dan turned to go, the captain caught his arm. "It's just, she's a mess, Oleson." Again the stricken look. "Just be prepared, okay? She's a real mess."
Dan sat down on the low stool beside Cheyenne's tank. He was glad for the captain's warning, Cheyenne was a mess. He tried not to focus on what was floating in the tank but instead on her voice. Her voice, despite the slight distortion of the nerve spider and intercom, was the same and when he closed his eyes, she was the same.
"So what should I talk about?" Dan asked.
"Anything," Cheyenne replied. She gave a groan of frustration. "Absolutely anything. I tell you, you have no clue what boredom is until you are blind and floating in a tank with nothing to do. Ten minutes seems like an eternity. I must drive my poor healers crazy with my constant questions but I can't help it."
"Nonsense," Lana said from her station at the far end of the tank. "You are a wonderful patient."
Dan thought for a moment. "Oh, I know, you'll love this. So last night, right after we get into orbit and the artificial gravity kicks in, Kleppie announces he needs to use the toilet. I told you we were bunked up together, didn't I? It's me, Jensen, Kleppie and Madsen."
"Yeah, sounds like a blast," she joked.
He groaned. "Yeah, well it's only for six weeks. Anyway, have you seen their toilets? They are just a tube that comes up out of the floor. They are sort of contoured at the top, and surprisingly comfortable once you get over how different they look. They are low, lower than anything I've seen."
"Remember the pit toilets in India?" Cheyenne said.
"Not that low," he said.
"They are optimal height for their purpose," Lana said.
"Well, they are lower than we're used to," Dan replied. "Anyway, Kleppie is in there, right? Only, all that's in the little closet is the toilet. So he calls out, 'how do I clean myself?'"
Lana let out a low chuckle.
"And?" Cheyenne prompted.
"It's sort of like a voice activated bidet," Dan said with a laugh. "Kleppie came shooting up out of there like a rocket, pants around his ankles." Cheyenne started to giggle at the image. "He trips over the pants and goes down into the closet on the far side of room. Both me and Madsen are losing it. And just at that minute Bakala shows up with Jensen in tow."
"Bakala?" Cheyenne asked.
"Quartermaster," Dan explained. "He's looking at Kleppie, on the floor with his pants down, and us, just laughing our asses off. His eyes are all big, like 'what the hell is going on here?' I don't think I have ever laughed so hard."
#####
"Captain Dowlings?" Lannister said as he stood in front of her office door. He yawned. It was now the second watch of evening, according to their reckoning, or about eight pm by American standards. How they decided what local time was in relation to anywhere on Earth, he didn't know. Eight pm was early for Lannister to be this tired, but he'd had a long day.
"Come," Captain Dowlings replied. "And thank you for stopping by this evening. I wanted to check in with you before the duty day is over, see how things are going. How is your crew settling in?"
"They seem to be handling things well, as far as I can tell," Lannister replied. "How are the men doing physically?"
"Kavinda reported in just a few minutes ago. I've the full report here." She pulled out her slate and a holo-projection sprang up. There was a glowing podium with three screens angled back for easy reading. Each screen was filled with script.
"I'm afraid I don't read Consortium," Lannister said.
"Of course," Captain Dowlings said. "Four incidents of neurological problems, a lot of rashes and radiation burns, but the short version is everyone is surviving and their condition is improving."
"Even the critically injured?"
"Yes, Cheyenne's condition is looking much better. The one called Jenkins, will be out of the tank in a couple days. That leaves three left in critical."
Lannister nodded. He'd visited them all. Jenkins had been caught in an explosion in the engine room and taken some internal damage. Kismet had been on deck. He was burned almost as bad as Cheyenne. He'd lost fewer limbs but more skin. Martens was a cook. He'd received only minor injuries in the blast, but he had a heart defect no one knew about and his heart gave out on him. He had nearly died, his crew performing CPR until the Consortium healers arrived and took over his care. That visit had been a true shock to Lannister. Martens was awake in his tank, sitting upright as though in a bath. A silver cord sprouted out of his chest, pumping the blood for him while the Consortium healers grew him a new heart.
"Emotionally, how do you think they are adjusting?" Captain Dowling asked.
"Pretty good all things considered. I was going to offer, if you want my Master of Arms to help with discipline," Lannister said.
"Master of arms?"
"Military police," Lannister explained. "Our internal security. We have four officers in our crew."
"We have four as well," Captain Dowlings said. "And there is a Kurgara onboard currently. I think that should be sufficient. Unless you anticipate problems?" Her eyebrows arched.
"No," he replied. "I just worry about cultural differences. We don't really know each other's culture, expectations."
"We are at peace with your people now," Captain Dowlings said.
"And yet it's still fragile," he said. "I don't want to have any sort of incident that could threaten that."
"I doubt there will any such problem, but I do think you and I should meet regularly. Maybe all the officers of both crews should meet. Discuss things. I will set something up in a couple of days. Sound acceptable?"
"Yes, thank you."