That stumps me, so I turn my attention back to Kit.
“Apologies, Captain. We didn’t want to disturb you, but there’s a problem.”
I’m already sitting up and reaching for my clothes. “What problem?”
“We picked up a distress signal. Beau is waiting for you.”
Dread spikes in my gut. Legally, we’re required to lend aid to any craft in distress if we’re the closest ship. “I’ll meet you both on the bridge.”
Marlowe emerges from the blanket once Kit’s gone. She stares me down, looking formidable even with her hair pressed in all directions and sleep creases on her cheek. “You have to help them.”
Her tone is accusatory, and it makes me falter for a moment. It seems impossible that she could know what I’m thinking. In contrast to earlier, I no longer believe it’s a good thing that she can read me so well.
“Marlowe—” I say, using the laces of my boots as a distraction.
“Tanisira. Don’t treat me like an idiot.”
“Listen—”
“No,” she interrupts me. “You listen. I don’t believe for a moment you would consider leaving those people behind if you didn’t know about my condition.”
With more vigour than necessary, I twist my hair up and secure it on top of my head. I have to remind myself it’s not Marlowe I’m mad at.
“Aboard this ship, you’re my responsibility. If we takeanydetours, you will run out of medication. Do you want a rerun of what happened to you yesterday? It did not look fun.”
Marlowe flinches, but I don’t regret my words. Seeing her helpless and in pain might not have changed my opinion of her, but it did scare me. How much worse would the symptoms be after a day or two without meds?
“I’m not your responsibility,” Marlowe snaps, eyes flashing. She stabs her legs into her trousers. “I’m a grown fuckingwoman and can deal with the consequences of my actions. I won’t have those people’s lives on my conscience.”
“Someone else will come along—”
“Don’t placate me. What’s the likelihood that another ship, well-stocked andbigenough to help, comes along before they run out of oxygen, food, heat? Should we get Kit back up here to run the calculations? That’s why it’s law!”
With her arms crossed, teeth bared, backlit by stars and comets, she looks like an avenging angel. It only makes my anger burn brighter. I didn’t ever want to be in this position again.
“Fuck!” It bursts out of me, the acid in my stomach rising up my throat.
The worst part is that Marlowe is right. She’s not my responsibility. If I didn’t know about her RIND, I wouldn’t think twice about lending aid. I turn away from her, drag my hands down my face, and try to get myself under control. The idea of watching her suffer even an hour sets my teeth on edge, but she’s right: I can’t leave innocents in trouble.
A cool hand on my arm stops me from pacing. Marlowe’s face is still set in stone, but her eyes are softer, understanding. Her touch soothes a part of me, and she waits.
“What happens the longer you go without medication?” She hesitates. “I need to prepare myself,” I say carefully. “That’s all.”
At some point, I’ll revisit this feeling churning in the pit of my stomach. I’ll inspect it, turn it inside out, and see what spills forth.
Marlowe shakes her head. “After you deal with the distress signal.”
Her tone brooks no argument. I spare a glance at the mess we’ve made. It’s not something I want the stewards to have toclean up—my crew shouldn’t be the only ones who get to take it easy on this trip.
She pushes me, gently, towards the door. “I’ll tidy it away.”
On the bridge, I find Beau and Kit discussing numbers.
“What do we know?”
Kit brings up several screens. The signal is approximately a half day’s journey if we really push it. It seems to be coming from a craft small enough that it’s more than likely an escape pod. That narrows the amount of time they have—if it’s big enough for more than one person—before they run out of food at the least, and oxygen at the most. We might have only just picked up the signal, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t broadcasting before we moved into its range. My gut clenches. It’s also possible that whoever’s marooned out there could already be dead.
“Should I set the course?” Kit asks.
