Chapter 13 - Damage Control
Damage Control
The plan is to take a well-earned nap and then get back to the repairs.
Marlowe, having already drifted off, is tucked up like a baby.
With all the thoughts raging through my head, it takes me longer, but the moment I start to slip into sleep, Kit appears like a ghost. I startle hard enough to jostle Marlowe awake, and she glares at me before realising we have company.
“What the—” she swears, trying to drag the blanket over us.
I raise an eyebrow. “She’s AI.”
“She’s basically your sister.”
That stumps me, so I turn my attention back to Kit.
“Apologies, Captain. We didn’t want to disturb you, but there’s a problem.”
I’m already sitting up and reaching for my clothes. “What problem?”
“We picked up a distress signal. Beau is waiting for you.”
Dread spikes in my gut. Legally, we’re required to lend aid to any craft in distress if we’re the closest ship. “I’ll meet you both on the bridge.”
Marlowe emerges from the blanket once Kit’s gone. She stares me down, looking formidable even with her hair pressed in all directions and sleep creases on her cheek. “You have to help them.”
Her tone is accusatory, and it makes me falter for a moment. It seems impossible that she could know what I’m thinking. In contrast to earlier, I no longer believe it’s a good thing that she can read me so well.
“Marlowe—” I say, using the laces of my boots as a distraction.
“Tanisira. Don’t treat me like an idiot.”
“Listen—”
“No,” she interrupts me. “You listen. I don’t believe for a moment you would consider leaving those people behind if you didn’t know about my condition.”
With more vigour than necessary, I twist my hair up and secure it on top of my head. I have to remind myself it’s not Marlowe I’m mad at.
“Aboard this ship, you’re my responsibility. If we take any detours, you will run out of medication. Do you want a rerun of what happened to you yesterday? It did not look fun.”
Marlowe flinches, but I don’t regret my words. Seeing her helpless and in pain might not have changed my opinion of her, but it did scare me. How much worse would the symptoms be after a day or two without meds?
“I’m not your responsibility,” Marlowe snaps, eyes flashing. She stabs her legs into her trousers. “I’m a grown fucking woman and can deal with the consequences of my actions. I won’t have those people’s lives on my conscience.”
“Someone else will come along—”
“Don’t placate me. What’s the likelihood that another ship, well-stocked and big enough to help, comes along before they run out of oxygen, food, heat? Should we get Kit back up here to run the calculations? That’s why it’s law!”
With her arms crossed, teeth bared, backlit by stars and comets, she looks like an avenging angel. It only makes my anger burn brighter. I didn’t ever want to be in this position again.
“Fuck!” It bursts out of me, the acid in my stomach rising up my throat.
The worst part is that Marlowe is right.
She’s not my responsibility. If I didn’t know about her RIND, I wouldn’t think twice about lending aid.
I turn away from her, drag my hands down my face, and try to get myself under control.
The idea of watching her suffer even an hour sets my teeth on edge, but she’s right: I can’t leave innocents in trouble.
A cool hand on my arm stops me from pacing. Marlowe’s face is still set in stone, but her eyes are softer, understanding. Her touch soothes a part of me, and she waits.
“What happens the longer you go without medication?” She hesitates. “I need to prepare myself,” I say carefully. “That’s all.”
At some point, I’ll revisit this feeling churning in the pit of my stomach. I’ll inspect it, turn it inside out, and see what spills forth.
Marlowe shakes her head. “After you deal with the distress signal.”
Her tone brooks no argument. I spare a glance at the mess we’ve made. It’s not something I want the stewards to have to clean up—my crew shouldn’t be the only ones who get to take it easy on this trip.
She pushes me, gently, towards the door. “I’ll tidy it away.”
On the bridge, I find Beau and Kit discussing numbers.
“What do we know?”
Kit brings up several screens. The signal is approximately a half day’s journey if we really push it.
It seems to be coming from a craft small enough that it’s more than likely an escape pod.
That narrows the amount of time they have—if it’s big enough for more than one person—before they run out of food at the least, and oxygen at the most. We might have only just picked up the signal, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t broadcasting before we moved into its range.
My gut clenches. It’s also possible that whoever’s marooned out there could already be dead.
“Should I set the course?” Kit asks.
“What is inventory looking like if we take on people?”
In the corner of my eye, Beau chews on their lip. Gryphon’s short notice demands mean we didn’t get a chance to restock before launch; we were already cutting it fine.
“We can sustain one person, with minimal disruption to the last leg of our journey to Red Horizon. However, any more than that and we’ll need to stop off for supplies. Once we pass Novus Junction, there are no other stopovers.”
I exhale slowly through my nose. Exactly what I thought she’d say.
“What are you thinking, Cap?”
“Either way, it looks like from this point on we’re going to have to make a detour to Novus.”
Beau nods, contemplating. “I’ll send comms to Red Horizon and inform Dominik.”
“Reserve accommodation on the eastern side of Novus, as well. I don’t care what hotel as long as it’s close to a docking arm.”
They frown, the pale blonde of drawn eyebrows gleaming in the light. “We’re staying? With Dominik’s accounts, it usually takes less than a day to refuel and—”
“No.”
Beau waits for me to expand, but when I don’t, they nod curtly and head to their station. Kit watches me, waiting for further instruction, but I’m suddenly exhausted—a throbbing headache blooming into life behind my eyes.
“Head for the signal.”
Once the crew has been informed, a course has been charted, and comms have been sent, I head to the airlock.
Despite all the excitement of the day, I still have repairs to make.
With a perfunctory response from Gryphon’s secretary ringing in my head, I round the corner and nearly walk right into Marlowe.
She’s leaning against the bulkhead; hands shoved into her pockets with a question in her eyes.
She should be so much more worried about the delay, and it irks me.
The longer it takes us to arrive at Red Horizon, the more time she has with Vee before she has to confront Gryphon.
I know this. Logically, I know why she would care more about time than her health.
But I can’t stand to see her in pain. I guess it’s just a choice between physical or psychological, and she’s made her preference clear.
“Ready?” I ask.
It’s not what Marlowe was waiting to hear, but she doesn’t push. “Sure.”
We suit up quietly, and it’s a parallel of this morning.
If only I’d known how the day was going to proceed, I could have tried to prepare myself.
I feel jagged, like a schism has opened itself inside me and I can’t meld the pieces of myself, no matter how hard I try.
Being pulled back into the shadow of the person I used to be, even if only for a short time, has shaken me.
It’s like trying to slip back into a saturated wetsuit; slick with saltwater, constricting.
The Raat-Sarpa rears in my mind, taunting; the ship that held up my reflection and showed me a stranger.
These wounds I let seep through, trying to remind myself I am a better person for my actions now, even if doing what’s necessary feels like falling backwards.
The woman who thought smuggling was a victimless endeavour no longer exists.
She wasn’t just disavowed of that notion, she was obliterated, but moving on is so hard to do.
It’s always so cold when I remember that day. The baying as it reaches a panicked crescendo, followed by the kind of silence that always means death. A scrap of fabric, thin and filthy. All those eyes, staring back at me.
“Tanisira.”
Marlowe stands at the hatch, ready to go. She doesn’t try to open dialogue, and for that, I’m grateful. I make a terrible conversationalist in this mood. My chest is tight, and I’m glad for the oxygen being pumped directly into my suit.
The shame isn’t new. I left everything behind, but it follows me anyway. I ran from my mistakes, and they’ve been dogging my heels ever since.
We start prepping the rest of the dents in the hull.
I want to get it done in record time but it’s not something that can be rushed, and we can only go as fast as the damage will let us.
An hour in, I’ve had enough of Marlowe shooting glances my way.
It seems that when the silence isn’t one of her choosing, she grows restless quickly. I’m ready for her when she breaks.
“Did you tell Dominik? About the delay?”
I clear my throat. “We did.”
She waits, but after a beat gestures for me to elaborate. “And?” She laughs bitterly when I hesitate. “Opal replied, didn’t she?”
“Directly and blandly.”
Her exact words were: It would be best if you didn’t delay further.
“You think I didn’t know that?”
Marlowe does look a little relieved. I assume because every call Gryphon makes is another possibility that Vee will have to lie for her. Watching how much it hurt her the first time was enough.
“There’s not much to protect me from anymore when it comes to Dominik.”
“I think it just seems he’s put you through so much that the least anyone can do is spare you.”
“That’s... something,” she murmurs, almost to herself.
I hum noncommittally, and there’s the glint of something indecipherable in Marlowe’s frown. “What else have you taken it upon yourself to protect me from, Captain?”
I hear the edge in her voice, and I don’t take it lightly. “Just that.”