Page 26 of Tempting Cargo
“What was that?”
“Blood sample,” she said, glancing at Fenn before putting the white cuboid back in the control panel.
I rolled my shoulders as I swung up to sitting. “It was fine,” I told Fenn. “A bit cold, but just as easy as any other scan.”
“Cold?” Shohari’s brow ridge wrinkled, but I shrugged.
“Just a minor difference in our physiologies, I expect.” What was it Grandpa said? Something about the balance of gas base and ionized particles? I pictured him sitting in our small kitchen, a vapour cigar in his mouth, bony fingers drumming on the metal table.When I was your age, holofields could either hold a mining rig in space, or let it fall right through. You be grateful they’re stable these days and won’t freeze you solid by accident.“Doesn’t matter. Can we hear the results?”
Shohari studied the holoscreen, the alien characters no doubt telling her all the things I wanted to know and couldn’t read. “Of course. Comnica, activate narration. Human.”
It was strange to hear the synthetic voice with its alien accent speaking English, to be able to hear it without the soft duality of simultaneous alien speech and translation. Much of the technical talk went well past my medic training, but other parts were easier to understand.
“Unknown carbon-based life form following typical pattern for class B species. Normative parameters unknown. Internal body temperature 310 degrees.”
Definitely not using Celsius out here, then.
“Multiple antibody patterns against uncategorised diseases. Contusion on left forearm.”
“Huh, it can identify the bruise on my arm. No manual exam needed.” I grinned at Shohari. “Fancy that.”
She just rolled her head in a shrug. “Kheh.”
Unsurprisingly, I was negative for any alien vaccines. I was also negative for any of the relevant diseases or conditions, which was the important bit.
“That’s all we need to know,” Shohari said, swiping the screen of results away and, presumably, bringing up a fresh record for Fenn. “With your permission, I’d like to use these readings to build a model for humans in the wider galactic medical database, not just on the ship.”
“Makes sense to me. We’ll speak to the others.” I glanced at Fenn, who nodded as we swapped places.
I stayed in the medbay, partly watching my friends get scanned, but mostly watching Shohari work. She was her usual gruff self but put people at ease well enough, treating them with the same respectful care as the first time I was here. She talked through any results to the best of her ability when asked, though they were all much of a muchness.
“You could have let Muzati do these, you know.” My legs swung aimlessly from my seat on the side bench, and she fixed me with a level stare.
“What is your point, human?”
Was I making a point? I liked gently teasing her. I liked seeing her reactions to me that were so much more than they were with anyone else, so I let out the smirk playing at my lips. “Nothing,CaptainShohari. I guess I just like that you care.”
She grumbled something about cargo and interest, most of her words stolen in the clatter of equipment as she tidied everything away. Her delightfully muscular arse caught my attention instead, until I realised I was going to pop a boner. Again.
“I’d best get back to the others. Thanks, Cap.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Put the kettle on
Shohari
“SO NOW youknow my weakness and my shame.”
I’d practically choked on my words as I’d told my crew, but the engines still thrummed beneath my feet, my chrya still tasted sweet, and the nausea I’d been feeling wasn’t quite as bad.
“I love you, Shohari, but that’s ulthshit, you know?” Muzati's voice was gentle, though her golden eyes flashed with anger. “They should be ashamed, not you, and you’re the strongest motherskykker I know. You know we’ll help you any way we can, right? You know if it was as simple as kicking some arse, we’d be there with our station boots on in a heartbeat. Though we’d also bring blasters because, you know, blasters.”
Help? I couldn’t expect them to go out of their way to help fix my problem. It was my burden to bear, not theirs. Not that I didn’t trust my crew. I did. I could trust them with knowing. That was already enough.
I gave them a weak smile and dropped my gaze to the worried hem of my tunic, where the stitching was worse than frayed.
They left me to stew over my own thoughts, opting to rehydrate some soup pouches for everyone, even the humans, while I slumped into the sofa, my favourite impulse purchase from Bzhalti a few years ago. Protein bars would have been fine, but I didn’t have it in me to argue with them tonight. We could eat the dense keppli bread with the soup. The small rounds were probably nearing their consumption date, anyway.
