Chapter 156: [ Book 2 ] Chapter 16: Rehearsal

The Stardancer’s medical bay was quaint, barely larger than two of the personal quarters put together. It also doubled as the ship’s science facility. There was one full procedure table that supported up to mid-level surgical procedures. A scanner bunk tucked into the opposite bulkhead handled the advanced diagnostic imagery. The bunk, while extended, could also serve as a secondary procedure location. Any required capacity beyond that meant the crew was in far more peril than even a fully staffed medical suite could handle and should immediately set a course for the nearest facility or ship with a level-one trauma capability.

Wesley had never utilized the scanner bed for anything beyond its primary purpose in his relatively brief career as the ship’s medtech. But he did drill the practice scenarios to keep his skills sharp. A medical sim would link with the machinery and project augmented reality avatars. Wesley would have to oversee triage, order medical procedures, and supervise the process. It was realistic enough to pique a sense of excitement, reminding him of the full immersion sims at university.

One time, Gaius walked in on Wesley in the middle of such a scenario. He joined the sim and observed Wesley diagnose a ruptured organ, then made a case comparing the rush of the training to the pilot’s Galaxy Battles experiences.

“There’s a very big difference,” Wesley said. “There’s no Galaxy Battles equal in real life. My sim trains me for something I may actually have to deal with.”

“You’re not a pilot. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gaius countered and stormed off.

With an understaffed crew and a lack of access to medical contracting gigs, Wesley didn’t have much to do. The crew was up to date on their physicals despite their resistance to conducting them. He’d completed inventory before arriving at Sanctum and had used no supplies save for recovery packets distributed to each passenger and crewmember after their dramatic escape from the station. That left him utilizing his time to contribute to the ship’s operation in other ways.

He’d taken the task of optimizing the most dysfunctional of the crew—Tinker. The bot was such a jumble of patches and workarounds that no GalaxyNet forum or digital bot assistant held the answers he needed.

He began by reading up on mechanic bot maintenance and undertaking small optimization tasks. Following the threads one wire and line of code at a time. His efforts so far improved overall efficiency by 0.8%.

With several days left until they arrived at Aurora, he decided to try a new training scenario. Before browsing the offerings he’d yet to attempt, he checked his messages on the secureComm and found none waiting. It had become part of his routine—same as the Kethra poses and his courses of tea—though it was born of necessity rather than a ritual of renewal.

Cutter—the recovery agent hired to capture him—had provided the secureComm. In a bout of bad cosmic luck, Wesley’s past inadvertently exposed him to the secrets of a powerful House of the Human Coalition—the Nemotaurians. The types of secrets people disappear for. But Jo saved him at the last moment, smuggling him away until it was safe to return.

That had yet to happen.

Further tempting the bounds of fate, Cutter was suspected by the Nemotaurians to be part of those secrets. A significant enough part where another recovery agent on the team was instructed to kill Cutter upon confirming this suspicion. Thankfully, Cutter prevailed, and in doing so, saved Dash and the entire crew from a brutal existence as pirate slaves.

Cutter left Wesley aboard the Stardancer, hidden and protected from the Nemotaurian House, while the recovery agent embarked on a mission of revenge against his former employer. Wesley had yet to receive any updates on the man’s progress. One day he hoped to hear that justice had been served, that Cutter had avenged his fallen Ferrulian culture by bringing to light the crimes of the Nemotaurians, whatever they happened to be. Selfishly, Wesley wanted it done so he could give up his life on the run and return to Jo.

He had faith that the day would come. For now, he had a duty to perform, a professional mission to fulfill.

He’d resumed debugging a driver update to Tinker’s right arm control system when a comm request flashed on his PD.

Ruki.

Wesley's heart fluttered a bit. He found himself giddy around her since the singers had come aboard. “What can I do for you Sister?”

“Celescia has a minor injury and requires your medical attention in the cargo hold,” Ruki said.

A jolt of excitement whipped through the medtech. He was being summoned for his actual purpose. With the operations crew no longer aboard, he’d hardly had a chance to perform real medical practice.

“I’ll be right there!”

He grabbed his medkit and sprinted out of the medbay.

---

Wesley rushed into the Stardancer’s empty cargo bay to find Ruki, Yanna, and—much to his surprise—Tinker standing over Celescia in the troupe's designated rehearsal zone. Shortly after they came aboard, Wesley helped them repurpose tie-down straps, support braces, and a small loading assist cart to lay out a representation of a stage.

Ruki's face brightened at his appearance. He offered a thin smile as he stepped over an ankle-height strap and approached Celescia.

She sat on the deck, her legs stretched out in front of her. On one of them, the legging was rolled up to almost the knee, a hand grasping the ankle. Their outfits were form-fitting and colored in greenish hues. The masks had a semi-transparent texture as if cloudy plastic were covering their faces. He could see the blue skin beneath but all the details—save for the exposed eyes and lips—were distorted.

“Tell me what happened,” he said as he dropped to Celescia's side.

“Per Commonwealth Commerce standards, the workplace incident was filed in the ship’s log,” Tinker said before any of the troupe could speak.

“Thank you for the notice, Tinker, but I’m only concerned about the health of our passengers at the moment,” Wesley said. He made a mental note to take a look at the bot’s communication prioritization protocols later.

“We were going through one of our routines. I jumped, and when I landed, the deck felt like it had shifted in the slightest. I felt a pain in my ankle and went down,” Celescia said. Wesley thought he detected a hint of embarrassment in her expression. "I'm not as spry as my partners."

"Sister, you are forever young at heart," Ruki said.

“Yanna and I had not jumped at that moment, but we noticed some sort of shift as well. It was definitely the ship,” Yanna said.

“No equipment failures or safety violations were noted at the time of the incident,” Tinker said.

Yanna glowered at the bot. “I’m glad you’ve officially covered yourself from liability—“

Wesley held up a hand. “I assure you the bot means no disrespect. It's only following protocol.” He returned to his task, feeling along Celescia's graceful limb. There were no signs of traumatic injury or a hint of the purplish discoloration Pree experienced with inflammation.

“Does it hurt?”

“It did at first, but the pain is fading," Celescia said.

“Can you move your foot?”

Celescia did, rotating it in a circular pattern in each direction.

“Very good." Wesley placed a hand beneath her toes. "Push now.” She did as instructed, and passed all the checks.

“The good news is, from all appearances, it’s likely a minor sprain, if at all. I’ll need scans for further diagnosis to ensure there are no fractures or other abnormalities. But first, I have a theory on this shifting deck.” He opened a comm to Gaius.

“What you need, doc?” the pilot said.

“Were there any events in the past few minutes that might have affected the gravity dampeners?”

“Yeah, I made a small course change. Some sort of micro-debris field popped up on sensors. The ship rotated a bit and corrected. Should’ve barely felt it though.”

“In normal cases, yes. But one of our guests was performing acrobatics and suffered a minor injury.”

“Oh, damn. Sorry about that. I’ll be right down.”

“That’s okay, there’s no need—“ Wesley said, but the pilot had closed the comm. He peered at Celescia. “I’ve found that commercial ships tend to be a bit more aggressive with their maneuvers than say a passenger vessel or a yacht. The gravity dampeners work well, but pilots excel at finding ways to trip them up.” Especially ones that moonlighted as virtual military commanders, he refrained from adding.

“We’ll need a warning if something like this is to occur again,” Yanna said.

“I’ll address it with the crew,” he said to her, then directed his attention back to his patient. “Would you like an injection for the pain and to promote healing?”

“That would be lovely.”

Wesley retrieved the injector from his kit. He formulated a localized pain relief and healing compound, then hovered the injector over Celescia's injured leg. “You aren’t afraid of injections, are you?”

“Afraid? Who’s afraid of injections?” Celescia said.

“You’d be surprised,” Wesley answered and injected the compound.

Celescia wiggled her foot. “Feels better already—“

Dash’s voice boomed across the bay. “What the hell is going on down here?”

The captain and the pilot strode over to them, stopping at the imaginary boundary of the stage. Dash wore a technician’s apron, tools, and a set of gloves strapped to the front. A smidge of industrial lubricant adorned his cheek. Gaius held a small multicolored bag, munching on the crunchy contents within.

Wesley stood and faced the captain. “Celescia suffered a minor injury as a result of the unannounced course correction. I came down to treat her.”

“First of all, it was minor. We would've barely felt it. And I didn’t know people were jumping around. Otherwise, I would’ve made an announcement,” Gaius said with a defensive edge.

“I wasn’t making an accusation, only stating a fact,” Wesley said. He hadn’t meant to call out the pilot, but after reconsidering his words, realized how it may have come across that way.

Dash glanced down at Celescia leg. His irritated state appeared to settle at the sight. “What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Possibly a minor sprain. I was about to bring her to medical for a scan.”

“Good. Do that, after I’m done talking.” Dash aimed an irritated stare at Gaius. “You’re on duty. Why aren’t you on the bridge?”

Gaius stopped snacking mid-chew. “I heard about the accident and I was concerned, so I came down. But, I’m monitoring everything,” he said, taping the PD interface on the side of his head.

“You know the rules. If you’re on duty, you’re on the bridge.”

“Aye, cap,” Gaius said, and marched out of the bay, his arms swinging slighter higher than his normal gait in what Wesley knew was a mocking march.

If Dash took notice of the pilot’s somewhat condescending exit, he didn’t mention it. He turned his attention to Tinker. “And why are you standing there looking like someone fried your primary system?”

“I was tasked with configuring the bay per the specs of the passengers—"

"Oh, really?" Dash said, and threw a sidelong glance at each of the troupe. “Back to work,” he said to the bot. Tinker spun and padded out of the bay.

Dash peered at the singers. “As for you three, I said you’re welcome to use the bay provided you leave it the way you found it. That doesn’t include confiscating my bot from his duties to help you set up for your shows.”

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“Captain, I know you believe our ‘shows’ are trite and superficial,” Celescia said, her hands clasped in front of her. “But they truly do inspire people. They also happen to generate a hefty sum of creds. If you're concerned about your bot’s downtime, we will be sure to compensate you for it.”

Dash said nothing, though Wesley detected a sense of embarrassment emanating from him. “That won’t be necessary. Just don’t pull it from its duties again.”

“We won’t.”

“I’m not even sure why it listened to you. It should only be taking orders from the crew.”

“The task to configure the cargo bay was for the contractees. That supersedes its maintenance list,” Wesley said.

"Oh, right," Dash said. "When did you become the bot expert?"

"Since I took the initiative of approving the bot's efficiency."

"Well then, Mr. Proactive, you just inherited the job full-time. Don't come crying to me about it when it blows up in your face."

“I won't, captain," Wesley said, unsure why the captain was so surly. "Now if you don’t mind, I have a patient to attend to." Hearing his assertive words come out as they did had a surreal feeling to it. He was well within his right as the ship’s medtech to speak in such a manner and hoped that Dash saw it the same way.

“Good. Carry on,” Dash said and left the bay to return to his messy maintenance task.

"Sister Celescia, let's get you scanned," Wesley said. Her two partners helped her stand and walk toward the lift.

Wesley followed, still wondering what had the captain so worked up.

---

The last time Wesley had more than one person in the medbay was in the aftermath of the brawl on Praxa Prime. The tally that night was a few minor cuts, bruises, and one dislocated pinky finger. Dash and Gaius came down last after the ops crew received treatment, lest another fight break out.

Though the brawl was technically Dash's fault, he had a good enough reason for it. Disguised cultists waited in the bay to kill the crew on the way to the Stardancer. The captain instigated the brawl to earn them a SecForce escort and a boot off the station. The end justified the means, but the ops crew didn't see it that way. It was all the newly-hired first mate needed to convince them to mutiny against Dash. One that left them all on the brink of a terrible fate.

Wesley knew there was no risk of a repeat with the troupe, but the tension between the groups bothered him still. 

Celescia lay in the scanning bunk waiting while the machine completed its short warmup cycle. Her eyes were shut as if in a meditative trance. Ruki lingered nearby, peering between her leader and watching Wesley work. Yanna stood near the hatch, observing with that intense gaze of hers.

Wesley’s training kept him on task, but Ruki's attention teetered on the edge of distraction. He began to wonder if Yanna’s outward hostility was a result of her partner's interest in him.

The scanner chirped, its panel flashing a ready icon. His professionalism took control, pushing other thoughts aside. It was time to focus and perform his duties.

He came beside Celescia. “The scanner is ready. All you have to do is relax and hold still." He paused to gather himself. "Before we begin, I wish to apologize for failing to brief you about the risks of vigorous physical activity while in flight. I’ve made a task to update the ship’s safety brief to ensure all future passengers are made aware. As for the captain, while his reaction may have been a bit … harsh … I know that his distress came from balancing his concern for passengers and crew while keeping the ship operations in order.”

“I take responsibility for my clumsiness. You have nothing to apologize for,” Celescia said, eyes still closed. “As for the bot, we only borrowed it."

“I wonder how much of the ship fell apart in its absence,” Yanna announced to no one in particular.

“Yanna! That’s rude,” Ruki said.

Wesley gave a meek grin. “It's no secret the ship needs a lot of work. Tinker included. It's my pet project.” He initiated the scan. The scanner chirped as the emitter shifted into position over Celescia’s leg and began the standard imaging process. Several variations of electromagnetic energy would create cross-sectional images of Celescia’s leg. “There is something else I wanted to say. You've likely heard endless praise over your talents—“

"There's always room for more," Ruki said, grinning.

“—But I wanted to add that your performances are all the more impressive given the added complications of the charter, er … issue weighing upon you."

“We appreciate your kind words. We put our spirit and livelihoods into what we do," Celescia said. "It is a privilege to speak for those without a voice. It brings more fulfillment than any amount of wealth or fame could give."

"When we're performing, there is nothing else on our minds. We become so focused, so caught up in our routine and the energy from the audience, that we forget about all the chaos,” Ruki added.

"I sympathize with your position. I also lose myself in my work to forget life's troubles."

"What kind of trouble?" Yanna asked.

Wesley looked up from his datapad. "Er ... our ship's operation has been in a bit of a rough patch since my arrival. The ops crew ended up leaving for reasons that included my arrival. Afterward, we found ourselves at Sanctum, crossing paths with you," Wesley said. He wasn't sure why he revealed as much to them, people who were borderline strangers. He supposed the connection with Ruki over tea helped. Whatever it was, some part of him knew they were good people, and maybe that was all he needed.

“Sounds like something we should've been told before we agreed for you to transport us."

Wesley glanced at the surly singer, unsure of how to respond. "I mean, I suppose—“

"Yanna, could you prep a meal for us? All this excitement has stirred my appetite," Celescia said.

“Yes, sister," Yanna said, still eyeing Wesley. She left the medbay and Wesley blew out a little sigh of relief.

Ruki came beside Wesley and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad your challenges led you here. Otherwise, we’d be in the hands of the Theocracy.”

Wesley's face warmed. “Me too,” he said with a polite nod and retreated to the diagnostic station. Ruki returned to her place by Celescia's side.

“What drew you to become a medtech?” Celescia asked while the scanner hummed and whirred around her.

It was a question Wesley hadn't been asked since he left university. “My parents passed away in an accident when I was very young. Since then, I wanted to help people so others wouldn’t have to go through what I did.”

Ruki’s face sunk in pure sympathy. “I apologize, Wesley. I didn’t mean to distress you with this topic.”

“You didn’t. It was a long time ago, and I’ve made sure to seek counsel to address any lingering issues.” The scanner bunk beeped, the panel flashing a 'completed' icon. He studied the scans. The bone structure was normal. No visible tissue damage. He said a silent prayer of thanks that it hadn't been worse. To have accidentally harmed Sister Celescia's performance capability would've scarred his soul.

“I have great news. The scans show no abnormalities in your bone structure or tissue. For treatment, I would lay off acrobatics for two days, but you can walk on it. And be sure to ingest your supplements  from the galley."

Celescia sat up in her bunk. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m one to obey a healer,” she said and offered a polite smile. She rotated her foot in circular motions, testing the range of motion.

Wesley and Ruki moved beside Celescia to help her stand. She placed her good foot down first, then tested the other. "It feels a little stiff," she stepped out on her own, walking to the hatch, "but I'm fine by myself. Thank you, Medtech Wesley Martjan Dennenberg.”

“You’re welcome," Wesley said. Celescia departed, leaving him alone with Ruki.

Something told Wesley she'd done that on purpose. Heart now racing, he faced Ruki's intense gaze. She stepped close enough to enter his personal space. “You have a caring spirit born of a tragic origin. I find it inspiring." She hesitated. Moisture tickled Wesley's brow. "This may be forward of me, but I'd like to learn more about you. I feel a creative flow within me that I must explore."

"Ex ... explore?"

"Yes. It is my process for creating lyrics."

Wesley swallowed through his tightened throat. "You ... wish to write a song about me?"

Ruki giggled. "You're funny. No, what I mean is to take the essence of your story and translate it to deliver a message."

"Ah, right. Forgive me for my lack of experience with the creative process."

Ruki continued to stare at him. "Do you accept my offer?"

"Sorry, yes. That would be wonderful. I can't wait to hear the final result."

Ruki’s expression sunk. “I'll do my best, but with only a few days together—“

“—Until we reach Aurora. I forgot we would be going our separate ways soon.”

“I promise to do my best.”

“I expect no less from someone so talented.”

Ruki gave him a playful smile. “I would love to continue to chat with you, but we have a post-rehearsal routine to abide by.”

“I understand. Before you go, I wanted to say that I browsed the Sisters Celescia hub. Gaius would be very jealous of your followers count. His Galaxy Battles exploits have earned him celebrity status, though orders of magnitude less than yours.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.”

“Well, if you check your followers count, you’ll notice it’s gone up by one,” he said, offering a cheeky grin.

“I can always use another fan,” she said, grinning back at him.

She held her hands up, palms facing him. He returned the gesture, and they pressed their hands together. A more intimate salutations custom shared by many races. Her warm touch gave Wesley chills.

“Goodbye, Wesley,” Ruki said and stepped out of the medbay.

Wesley watched her go. His heart fluttered in a way it hadn’t in a while.

Not since his time with Jo.

 

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