“I don’t care about that, but you looked so relieved when you saw the NeuroSyn-23. All that just to get high?”
I shake my head, exhale into the crook of my elbow. I haven’t told anyone about my RIND since I was a teenager. It goes against all my instincts to do so now, but in the short time I’ve known the captain, I’ve learned that she isdetermined. She probably would have let me continue lying to her about it... If she hadn’t found me on the floor like a gasping fish. I wouldnever want anyone to walk into something like that without warning.
Well, at least I’m high for this bit. There’s always that fear of not being believed, that my disability is too invisible to be serious, to affect methisbadly. Attention seeker, liar, lazy—I’ve heard it all when people with chronic illness have confided in others.
“One of my ancestors was a cargo carrier transporting materials to Mars for the first colony. It was really good money, and it was easy if you had the temperament for it, so no one really looked too hard at the implications. Turned out that multiple six-month-long round trips in space? Bad idea. All her descendants inherit Radiation-Induced Neurological Disorder, otherwise known as RIND.”
“Did Vee?” Tanisira asks, looking genuinely worried. I ignore what that does to my heart and shake my head.
“The benefit of having an obscenely rich baby daddy is you can afford top quality, prenatal genetic modification and all the fuckery that comes with it.”
I don’t mention that Dominik and I fell out in the first place because he didn’t want me to go ahead with the pregnancy. I don’t mention that he only helped me after my screening results because he couldn’t bear the idea of having a ‘less than perfect’ kid out in the world. He’s an ableist prick. I would have happily continued to term without the mods; I wanted my baby to have a more comfortable life, but it wasn’t a dealbreaker. Dominik couldn’t understand that at all. In the end, it didn’t matter because he practically threw the money at me.
“The development of NeuroSyn-23 literally saved lives. Before that, I’d had a neural implant as a kid, various therapies, and meds in the form of pill cocktails.”
Tanisira narrows her eyes. “So what happened today? You seemed fine yesterday.”
Her response floors me, and I stare at her. That’s her question?
“I take my shot every three days, and it helps along with everything else. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been stuck on this ship. My meds are at home.”
She clenches her jaw. “What I’m hearing is that you knew you were going to need a shot, and you said nothing.”
I gape. “This is not my fault.” Not entirely, anyway. At some point, I need to have a stern word with myself about burying my head in the sand. “What would telling you have achieved? It’s a miracle that Khrys even has NeuroSyn-23. At best, I was hoping to find some strong pain relief.”
“What you did is incredibly irresponsible. If I’d known you needed medicine, we would have taken a detour, stopped off at a waystation.”
“I’m not your concern,” I grit out.
This is what I hate. The infantilisation. The overt protectiveness. People find out about my condition, and suddenly I’m delicate. I understand the compulsion, but the best interactions I’ve ever had were with people who asked me what I wanted, not just immediately forced their need to protect on me.
“All passengers on this ship are my concern,” Tanisira snaps back. “What if you hadn’t found anything? We weren’t expecting to make this trip, Marlowe. Our inventory wasn’t restocked, and your gamble could have gone very wrong.”
I ignore her attempt to lecture me and think about that; why is there NeuroSyn-23 onboard? I know for a fact that my meds are ridiculously expensive and hard to get hold of. They’re delivered to me via special service and require photo ID before I can even touch the box. The only reason I have access to them is that my ancestor, Lucille, was one of the first contractors to develop RIND before the companies startedincluding disclaimers. Her old employer is legally obligated to pay for the treatment of all her descendants. Thankfully, it ends with me on this branch of the family tree.
Tanisira lowers her head until her face is a breath away from mine. “What else do you need to tell me?”
That makes me bristle. “Nothing you need to know.”
“Of course I need to know.”
I raise an eyebrow, the effect a little lacklustre because I’m prostrate on a cold hospital bed. “Why?”
“Whilst you’re on this ship, I’m responsible for you. If you hadn’t snuck aboard, you’d have filled out a medical form, and it would have needed to be verified by your doctor.”
For some unknown reason, I feel disappointed by her words. I shake it off, along with the dregs of my high, and push myself upright. Gently, I test the range of my movements and ignore Tanisira again. It’s childish, Iknow, but I’m so fucking tired, and I feel vulnerable, flayed open. My nerves are scraped raw, and I want to be alone right now. I’m embarrassed and irritated and—burrowing deep under my spiky emotions—a little sad.
She eyes me. “How do you feel? You already look much better.”
I hold up my hands and let her get a good look at them. I always have a slight tremor, but they’re much steadier in comparison to before. The beauty of this disgustingly expensive medicine is that it works immediately, soothing hurts, stopping burning pain in motion and repairing my flimsiest myelin sheaths. If I didn’t know I was high on pain relief, I’d swear I could feel my nerve endings singing harmonies. Not for the first time, I think about how fucking lucky I am, both that my treatment is sponsored and that Vee has a father wealthy enough to prevent him from living this kind of life. It’s not a bad life, but it’s not an easy one.
“Based on what you’ve told me, that second syringe will see you to Mars,” Tanisira says, her voice hesitant. It lacks the acidity of earlier, and I can tell what she’s thinking by the way she suddenly glares at the box by my head.
“As long as there are no more delays,” I confirm.
There’s one more syringe and four more days to go until we land at Red Horizon. The nature of NeuroSyn-23 means that I wouldn’t be able to get an emergency prescription in time if we’re delayed by even one more day. With some strong painkillers in me, I can manage, but it’s not ideal. Obviously. Just as being dragged over hot coals isnotideal.
Determination tightens the muscles in Tanisira’s jaw. “I’ll get you there, don’t worry.”
