Star Cruise - Outbreak (7 page)

And he was gone.
 

“Always leave them wanting more,” Liora commented.

“I’m sorry, what?” Emily asked.

“Your captain. He certainly grasps and uses the effect of his position on the passengers.” The actress nudged her husband in the ribs. “Did you take notes? You’re scheduled to play a starship captain in an adventure trid next year. You could certainly do worse than observing Captain Fleming.”

“I’ve been granted a half hour on the bridge later in the cruise,” her husband answered. “I don’t think he liked the idea much, but the Line insisted. I’ll have to inject a lot more warmth into the portrayal than he does.”

Had the captain met his match in the moviemaker? With a smile, Emily sipped her wine. It would be fascinating to be a fly on the bulkhead during the half-hour appointment. Emily envied Fleming’s ability to make a fleeting appearance whenever he didn’t care to be engaged with passengers. Thankfully, the dinner party broke up soon thereafter, and she was able to escape to her cabin without anyone mentioning her experiences on Fantalar for a second time.
 

CHAPTER SIX

After changing out of the expensive dress uniform, Emily found her cabin wasn’t the sanctuary she’d been hoping for. Restless, thoughts racing, she paced the small expanse, haunted by visions of her last deployment. All the annoying talk at dinner about the ridiculous and unwarranted title the media insisted on tagging her with had been unsettling. Furious at herself, she pushed away an impulse to call Jake. What exactly was he going to be able to do for her? Compare notes about the horrific combat they’d both seen? The shipboard gossips among the crew would have a field day if she and the sexy security chief were seen together after hours again so soon.

Finally, she decided she needed to be in a bigger space, with something to distract her. She changed yet again before heading to A Deck and the casino.

The whirling lights of the gaming consoles dazzled her, and the music assaulted her ears as she crossed the threshold. Knowing she’d made a mistake, Emily stubbornly kept advancing into the venue, not willing to retreat. A medium-sized crowd was enjoying the pleasures the casino offered, a large throng around one high-stakes table, where someone was noisily exploiting a run of luck.
No one’s spared a glance for you, so get over yourself. No one is staring.
Debating if this excursion was a good idea, Emily headed toward the bar. “Mistalor wine,” she told the bartender. “A glass and the bottle.”

He brought her the requested feelgood. “Shall I run a tab?”

Emily swiped her thumb on the transaction pad. “Good idea. Is there a quieter place a lady can drink?”

“No gambling for you tonight?” He jerked his head toward the far end of the bar, which opened into a smaller room. “Peaceful in there.”

“Too many people,” Emily said.

“There’s the observatory. Go straight through the casino, and you’ll find the entry at the rear. Not much traffic there.”

“Thanks.” Clutching the bottle and her glass, Emily followed his directions, eventually finding herself in the isolated observatory, where the ship was projecting a stunning view of a nebula overhead, as if the viewer stood poised at the edge of the colorful star field. Delighted to find the place vacant, Emily strolled to the far end and sat at a small table, pouring herself the first drink with anticipation. Hands trembling, she took a deep breath. The wine at dinner had been a quality vintage, but she hadn’t allowed herself to do more than sip. This high-end feelgood rolled down her throat and hit her stomach with welcome warmth, spreading through her nerve endings. Mistalor had a delayed, second kick as the trace elements activated, fuzzing the sharp memories and applying the brakes on her racing thoughts. Pouring the second drink, warmed and calmer already, Emily said, “Ship, can you display something else for me?”

Maeve’s crisp voice echoed in the space. “If the current view isn’t to your taste, Dr. Shane, I can provide an alternative of your choice.”

Flinching at the sound of Maeve’s tones, Emily reminded herself the AI ran the entire
Nebula Zephyr.
Nowhere on board was outside of her scrutiny. Clutching the glass so tight she thought she heard the crystal crack, she felt the anger rising like an acid tide in her gut.
Seven hells, I’m off duty and I can do as I damn well please.
“Give me the Fantalar system.”

After a blink in the display, the all-too-familiar triple star with its twelve planets blazed into view, a star field in the hazy distance. Emily’s throat tightened, and she blinked back tears as she hoisted her glass. “To all the good soldiers I couldn’t save there.” Downing the drink in one long gulp, she hastily poured another, noticing in passing how her hands still trembled ever so slightly.
This is not a good idea, but I’m already into it.

“And to all the ones you did save, Doctor.” Maeve’s remark was cool.
 

Surprised, Emily set the glass on the table. “How do you know anything about what I did there, or who I did and didn’t save?”
 

“I was a military AI at the time. I scanned the reports,” the AI answered promptly. “Your actions on Fantalar—”

Emily raised her hand as if fending off a blow. “Stop there. Can we not talk? I’m not here to relive the past tonight.”

“Aren’t you?”

Emily’s mouth fell open at the challenge from the AI. Before she could say anything, Maeve added, “Have a good evening, Doctor. If there’s anything else you require of me, please don’t hesitate to ask.” There was an audible click, apparently the AI’s standard way to signal she’d signed out of the conversation.

Doesn’t mean she’s not continuing to observe. Hope you won’t be too shocked by what you see.
Emily kicked her shoes off and leaned back in the chair, studying the giant Fantalar primary star through her half-empty glass. Memories surged forward in her mind, the sounds of battle punctuated by voices pleading for help, and she hastily poured another shot, tossing it off. Eyeing the half-empty bottle, she decided she was going to need more to obliterate the pain tonight and placed the order via the link on the table.
 

Jake hoped he could carry out the extraction without too much attention. He strode into the casino, thronged even at this late hour with passengers pouring credits into the games of chance. The casino never stopped. It might be the wee hours of the morning, according to the standard time the ship kept, but the place was hopping. The signature music for the dance troupe’s finale was blaring, and he glimpsed the showgirls performing with enthusiasm on the stage at the far side of the expanse. “She still in the observatory?” he asked Maeve, using the subvocal link between the AI and senior crew.

“Yes, Jake. She hasn’t left the area all night, had the feelgoods brought to her, until the bartender cut her off.” The AI’s voice was cool as always, matter-of-fact.

“At least she used some common sense.” He made his way through the crowd, nodding to a few passengers he recognized, politely refusing offers of a drink or a dance. “I’m on duty,” he said over and over. He reached the portal to the observatory a few moments later.

“I kept the area off-limits except for the doctor,” Maeve reported as the door opened for him. “Once I understood how she was proceeding with her evening.”

Jake took one glance at the Fantalar system as he reached the top of the stairs. “Change the display.”

Maeve didn’t reply, but when he blinked, a new vista of purple and blue nebulas traced feathery fingers across the deep void displayed above him. Grunting his approval of Maeve’s choice, Jake walked toward the table at the far end of the viewing space. Emily’s head was down, her hair spread messily across her shoulders. Two empty bottles of wine stood on the table with a half-empty glass. Debating his next move, Jake lifted one bottle for a moment. The doctor was no lightweight when it came to her drinking.
I’d be under the table too after two bottles of this stuff.

“She has good taste.” He eyed the label. “Expensive.”

“And the babysitter arrives,” Emily said, words slurring. She needed three tries to enunciate the multiple-syllable word. Raising her head as if it weighed a ton, she shoved her hair away from her face. “Should’ve known the damn ship would call you.”

“Do you have any headclear with you?” he asked.

She shook her head and was in danger of falling from the chair as the movement became exaggerated, so he caught her arm, bracing her in the seat. She shook one finger at him. “Don’t want that. No headclear. Wanted to stop remembering.”

“Remembering what?” Jake pulled her to her feet, steadying her.

“You know what. Damn ship says you know all about me, what I did.” Emily tilted her head, eyeing him blearily. “I can’t escape anywhere, can I?”

“A lot of people are grateful for what you did on Fantalar.” He tried to steer her toward the crew-only emergency access door in the middle of the observatory. “Including me.”

“Only the ones who lived.” She stopped, eyes widening, one hand going to her midsection. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Not now, Doc. Let’s get you to your cabin and headclear.” While he maneuvered the doctor through the portal, he sent Maeve a subvocal order to deliver a standard dose to the AI interface in the doctor’s cabin.

Swallowing hard, Emily clung to him as the gravlift carried them to the lower levels. “The antigrav isn’t helping my stomach or my vertigo,” she moaned. He realized she’d passed out by the time the portal to her deck opened, so he hoisted her small frame into his arms and carried her from the lift to her cabin. Fortunately, the corridor was empty.

An inject popped up on the AI table as he walked into the cabin.

“Headclear, as ordered,” Maeve said.

Jake laid Emily on the bed and removed her boots before retrieving the medication and administering the inject, rubbing her bicep for a moment after he’d given her the medication. Going to the bathroom to dispose of the empty container, he heard her stirring as the drug powered through her system.

“Hey,” he said, returning to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you doing now?”

She laid one hand over her eyes. “I’ll need a second dose of headclear.” Maeve dimmed the light in the room a fraction. “How drunk was I?”

“Not too bad.” Jake surveyed her flushed face. “You do this often, Doc?”

A small headshake. “Not anymore.”

“Doesn’t help, does it?” he asked. “I bet you faked your way through the outbriefings when you left the service, fooled the psych techs, didn’t you? You’re a doctor, you’d know what the head docs were probing for.”

“The review board didn’t understand,” she said, voice intense. “None of them were
there
. They didn’t see what I saw. The things the clinicians suggested to me wouldn’t help me forget. Wouldn’t bring back the ones I couldn’t save. Talking to some lard-ass rear echelon psych tech who never experienced combat in his life—how could that help?”

“People die in war,” he said. “You couldn’t save them all. I know more than a few guys who’re damn grateful you were there on the planet with them.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Her voice was thick with unshed tears. “I heard enough at dinner. The damn movie star wanted to give Fantalar more human interest.” Her voice dripped disgust. “What the seven hells does he think we were in the middle of there? A party?”

Jake looked at her for a moment before he rose to get a glass of water. “Drink this, it’ll help the headclear.” As she took the water, he said, “We won’t talk about it tonight, but trying to hold the emotions and memories inside doesn’t work. I know, I fought the same battle after I left the Teams.” She stared at him through red-rimmed eyes as he spoke, her emotional pain scraping across his own nerves like a knife. He wished she’d accept something as simple and comforting as a hug from him but hesitated to offer. “Be aware there are a lot of us here on the
Zephyr
who’ve been where you are. If you decide to reach out, we’ve got your six. Happy to help a fellow vet.”

Drawing circles in the bedcovers with her finger, she shook her head. “You don’t understand—it was my job to save their lives, and I fucking couldn’t. Angel of Fantalar. What a joke. Yeah, I was the Angel of Death maybe.”

Now he did reach out, gently lifting her chin so her gaze would meet his. “More would have died if you weren’t there, or if you hadn’t done your job.”

“What do you know about it?” Her voice was like cut glass.

“You saved me, for one, and I’m damn grateful. I always wanted a chance to say thanks.” Jake bit his tongue, knowing this was a potentially disastrous thing to say right now, but she was so deep in her misery and so wrong about what she believed of herself. He wanted to make this right for her so badly he could taste it.

She flinched, and he released her. Scooting against the headboard, Emily said, “It was my job, soldier. If I saved you, then I did my job and we’re even. I don’t discuss what happened there with
anyone
. I don’t owe you my memories.”

“No, you don’t.” He rose from the side of the bed. “Are you okay now? Sleepy?”

She punched the pillows, avoiding his gaze again. “Does the captain know I went on a bender in public?”

Jake paused as Maeve added her voice to the conversation. “Captain Fleming designated Officer Dilon as your liaison. I summoned only him. The situation certainly didn’t rise to the level where the captain needed to be disturbed. I allowed no passengers into the observatory once you emptied the first bottle, Dr. Shane.”