Page 6 of Music of the Ocean

“Anything you want to talk about, Sax?” Vance asked.

Saxby heard the neutral tone, but he also knew Vance wasn’t really asking if Saxby wanted to talk. He was letting Saxby know he’d noticed some odd behavior. That was Vance’s way. He’d listen without judgment, then patch you up, physically or otherwise.

Saxby stared at the screen. “Just tired from this head cold that’s coming on. Okay, and yes, I have to admit that damned planet messed with my mind, and no, I have no idea why. Just had a bad feeling the entire time we were there.”

Vance leaned back, thumbs hooked in his belt. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’re required to do a blood panel. Standard protocol, you know. If you have a head cold, or some unknown virus, that’ll tell us.”

“That’s not as comforting as you think it is,” Saxby joked.

“If anyone gets some unknown, crazy-ass weird virus, it’ll be you. You have the damnedest luck.”

“Tell me about it.” Saxby saw no reason to admit he’d already pricked his thumb for a quickscan and run an off-the-books diagnostic the second they’d gotten back. No point in sharing how out of sorts he was from this mission.

“Anything else?” Vance asked.

Saxby shook his head. “Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He stood, grabbing the bottle, and forced a casual stretch. “I’m off duty now. I’ll grab a shower and a couple hours of rack time.”

“Okay, I’m out of here,” Vance said, standing. “Get the test done before end of day, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Saxby walked Vance to the door.

“See you later, then.” Vance waved as he left Saxby’s quarters.

Saxby returned to his desk and stared at the finished report. He debated adding a line about the dizziness, logged under personal medical observation. It would be the responsible thing.

But then, a cold dread bloomed in his chest as he imagined the report’s path: the slow, inevitable ascent through channels, the summons to the Chief Medical Officer’s sterile office, the clipped, professional questions that would have no good answers. He decided the report was good enough. Nothing could jeopardize his chance at a captain’s rank.

Nothing.

He thumbed the Send button and waited for the confirmation. Out of habit, he glanced at his reflection in the monitor. His dark hair was sticking up everywhere, and his eyes were bloodshot. Sweat beaded on his brow. He looked rough. Sick.

Shit. He did not need this right now. But the crappy feeling wasn’t letting up. Saxby stretched, rolling his shoulders, and the skin along his neck prickled, like a sunburn.

Pulling up the crew message system on his comm, he typed a note to Vance.

Will stop by Med after shower. Save me a hypo.

He was getting sick, so might as well deal with it. He peeled off his shirt and caught a whiff of salt and something else, earthy and sharp, like an old aquarium filter. How odd.

Throwing the shirt and pants into the recycler, he stepped into his shower stall, cranking the temp to blistering hot. Then, immediately stabbed the Temp Control button to decrease the heat because, holy hell, it felt like his skin was boiling off.

Cool shower it was. Hadn’t had one of those in a while.

The water hit his throat, and he hissed. The pain was sudden, like needles scraping along his spine. Like, ouch, but it also was kind of good, too. He braced his hands against the wall and let the water pound him. Every drop felt like a tiny electric shock, though.

Saxby lost track of time. When the auto-off kicked in, he stood there staring at the droplets beading on his skin, which was cool to the touch, but he was burning up.

Drying off became a test of willpower, since every drag of the towel made him wince. The ache in his throat had deepened, and his tongue pressed thick against the roof of his mouth.

Then, he coughed. Yuck, that sounded wet.

Great. Just great. He forced himself to get dressed in the standard-issue pants, another T-shirt, the uniform jacket. The fabric felt weird against his skin. Every seam was an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

A message pinged and it was Vance again.

Bay’s open. Come by when you’re ready. —V.

Saxby walked the corridor, the gravity seemingly heavier than before planetfall. His calves burned with each step. He’d never felt so heavy in his life, not even after the Zero-G training runs.