Dan's head went up and swiveled around. Across the crowded mess hall he saw Bankim, the consortium security chief, glaring at Whitman. Dan hadn't caught what words had been exchanged or who had started it, but both men looked angry. Whitman's fists clenched and unclenched. Bankim stood stock still, his lunch container in his hand. His posture wasn't threatening but his eyes shot daggers at the other man.
"You don't like us," Whitman accused.
"I don't," Bankim snarled.
"You want us all locked up," Whitman declared loudly.
"No," Bankim barked back. "I don't. I want you off my ship, you and the whole lot of savages with you."
It was Tellki, the pilot, sitting in a group of consortium staff on the far side that broke the tension. "Savages? That's a bit harsh, Bankim. Two bad ones and you'd judge them all?"
"You would defend what these men did, as this one does," Bankim answered, pointing at Whitman.
Tellki was standing now, too, but he didn't look angry. "Of course not. What they did was despicable. And to such a sweet soul. But remember when this voyage started? The housekeeper that stabbed her boyfriend?"
"Right in the ass," a healer said, laughing.
"Caught him in bed with that cook," another put in.
Tellki held up a hand for silence. He might not be their best supporter, Dan thought, but he loved to debate and he'd really sunk his teeth into this one. "Did any one say, 'well that's deep spacers for you?' 'Crazy lot, that.' I don't think so."
"Though, you kind of are," a healer joked.
"And when that oaf skinny dipped in the holding tanks on the base ship? Did anyone say, 'he's a Turik, what do you expect?' You can't paint them all with one broad brush."
Bankim, possibly seeing that he was going to lose the debate anyway, made an angry gesture and stomped out of the room. Whitman watched him go, eyes dark.
"I said that!" Aloka was laughing and pounding the table, "I did."
"Said what?" Runningbear asked.
"About the guy who skinny dipped. He's a Turik, what do you expect?"
The entire table was looking at her.
"Well," she protested. "My daddy worked pipes his whole life. There is primary filtration and secondary filtration. Everything is filtered coming in, and going out. Turiks have been skinny dipping in holding tanks for generations. It's practically tradition."
Everyone around the table was laughing. "Remind me not to go a to a station with a sizable Turik population," a healer joked.
"Is there a holding tank on this ship?" Runningbear asked Aloka, his eyebrows waggling. She hit him playfully.
Dan's attention was caught by Whitman passing behind him, a tray in each hand. Fox blocked his way. He held out his hands for the trays. "I'll take them, today only," Fox said.
"Thanks, sir," Whitman mumbled, looking down. He turned back and went for his own tray.
######
Lannister sat across from Captain Dowlings. He was just starting to feel easier around her, after her repeated assurance that she didn't hold him accountable for what two of his men had done. He couldn't help but thinking that if the situation was reversed, he might be looking at them with renewed suspicion.
They were pouring over routine reports. It was tedious work but it gave him the sense of doing something productive and that was enough for now.
There was a call at the door and it slid open. Lana, Cheyenne's healer, entered first and at first Lannister thought it was another routine matter from their healers. Then he saw Cheyenne's form behind her.
She was dressed in a simple green tunic and pants, a common consortium style. Her head was covered in a bristle of returning hair. Her cheeks were sunken, a sign of lost teeth, but much of the skin on her lips, cheeks and face was her own, rather than black bandages. Her stance was strong. He'd been aware that she was out of the tank for much of the day, but the notion that she was walking up and down the hallways surprised him.
As she entered she stepped in front of her healer and snapped a salute. "There is a matter I wish to discuss with you, sir," she said.
"If this is between you and your captain, I can step out," Captain Dowlings said, starting to rise.
"Actually, Ma'am," Cheyenne replied. "If my captain agrees to my request, you will be the next person I will need to talk to."
Captain Dowlings nodded and sat.
"Go ahead, Walker," Lannister prompted.
Lana found a stool and pulled it over so Cheyenne could sit.
"It's just this, sir, my injuries are more extensive than the rest of the crew. I won't be able to return to earth with the others. I am not sure I will ever be fit for duty."
Lannister nodded. "Of course, Walker. Command is aware. They are also aware that this was your last tour of duty. You will qualify for an honorable discharge with the highest possible accommodations, I can assure of you of that." He touched the left side of his face, the patch over his empty eye socket. "There will be a place on the station for those that need further treatment. A handful of us will be there, for awhile at least. But if you need us to process your discharge, free you up to go deeper in the consortium for specialized care, that can be easily obtained."
"Thank you, sir," Cheyenne replied. "That makes me feel better, but that is not exactly what I wanted to see you about."
"Of course, go on."
"It's related to that. My kids, I want to be able to care for them as much as I can. I hoped, I was hoping, I might be able to work, earn some consortium credits? I might need them. I'll probably eventually have to work. They tell me my care will be free, and as long as I need extensive tank sessions, my food and everything will be taken care of. But eventually I will have to support myself, like everyone."
Lannister was nodding.
"So I was hoping to start right away. Something simple, a few hours a day even. When this station is in place, I want to be able to help my mom buy a plane ticket, pay the kids' fee to ride up the elevator, have a room for them all to stay."
"We've offered to help with this," Lana said to Captain Dowlings. "But she will not hear of it."
"I will take help," Cheyenne contradicted. "But it is more than enough that you and Janda wish to stay on as my healers. And these are my kids I am talking about. I have a responsibility to them. I must help myself."
"Let me be clear about this, Walker," Lannister said. "You want to get a job, now, on this ship?"
"I'll push a broom. Help Oleson in hydroponics. Serve meals in the mess hall. I don't care. I just want to do something, so I can earn some of my own money, to help my family down the road."
"Commendable," Dowlings said.
"I'll punch Klempke if you wish, sir," Cheyenne joked. "And you can punish me as you did Oleson."
A smirked fought it's way onto Lannister's face and Dowlings bit back a laugh.
"I will speak to command, but I have no issue, if this truly your wish. Captain Dowlings?"
"I am sure I can find something suitable," Dowlings replied.
"I am serious, I just want a job. Don't go out of the way to make something up."
"Of course not, if your command approves, I will send Bakala to you. We have many things we can't do, because we don't have enough staff currently. We will find you something simple, like you say."
When Cheyenne and her healer had left, Dowlings turned to Lannister. "She's remarkable. I must say. To be so badly injured, and yet all she thinks of getting back to where she was, being there for her family. Remarkable."
Lannister nodded. "I always knew she was a remarkable officer, but this, it's amazing. I am proud to have her in my command." In his mind he added, it makes up for the others, at least a bit.