“You’re both in excellent health. Everything checks off. One last thing for my NASA study and then youboth are good to go.”
Daniel was such a rule follower. Not one time did he miss doing everything by the book. I would make a terrible doctor. I would just skip most tests if the patient told me he was fine.
“The computer will run you through two short tests for attention span and working memory. Once you’re back from your trip I will run these tests again to check the effects of prolonged isolation. You both already know that is what I am doing for my NASA study, but I still have to get your informed consent every time. Do I have your informed consent?”
“Da. Now hurry.”
“Yes, Doc.”
We parked our butts in front of the terminals and went through the series of brain games, as Daniel liked to call them. Usually I enjoyed these, but it was just not my day. When I was done Daniel looked at the results and gave me another look.
“What now?”
He hesitated, then looked up at Sam. “Could you give us a moment, Sam? Doctor-patient confidentiality.”
Sam looked taken aback. “Sure.” He gave me a long glance and then quietly left the clinic.
I groaned and dramatically flopped back into my chair.
Daniel cleared his throat and seemed to pick his words carefully.
“Viktor, I know you are a bit disturbed right now, but I have been taking your data for four years and you know I track it. I do that with all personnel here, and I have never seen such atrocious numbers from you.” He turned the iPad toward me and showed me a graph that looked more or less stable across four years and then plunged sharply down.
“Damn,” I muttered with feeling.
I glanced at the ring on his finger while I took a moment togather my thoughts.
“Look, I know this seems concerning to you. You are married and yet you overwinter here year after year. I have never seen you mope the way I am currently doing. I hand it to you, okay? I am with Sam every single day and yet I cannot seem to get my head out of my ass. But I have a feeling this one week is going to be the fix. I will finally get over him. I am determined.”
Daniel opened his mouth. Then closed it. He looked away and tapped his stylus idly against the iPad. Finally he looked back at me.
“Just be careful. Promise me?”
“Of course I will be. You don’t have to worry about me.” I added a smile to reassure him. Besides, what was I going to do — run away with the penguins?
3
Chapter 3
The galley signup sheet was taped to the wall outside the kitchen, a lined page on a clipboard with a grid of dates and names. I found Friday’s slot and ran my finger across to confirm — Volkov, Beckett, 15:00. We were on time.
The Station Chef, Theo, was at the industrial sink when we pushed through the door, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a stack of sheet pans waiting beside him.
“Right on time.” He jerked his chin toward the far end of the counter. “Pots need scrubbing. Trays need drying and stacking. Floor needs a sweep after.”
Sam pulled an apron off the hook. I grabbed the one next to his and tied it around my waist. The pots were large and heavy and they had the scorched residue of afternoon’s lunch baked into the bottom. I ran the hot water and worked the scrubber in tight circles while Sam picked up a clean dish towel and started on the tray stack.
We stood side by side working in comfortable silence. Waypoint Station was so small that everyone needed to pitch in with volunteer duties. Kitchen, dock, plumbing, supply ship unloading — whatever the task called for.
“Remind me to pack the extra battery pack for my laptop,” I muttered to Sam.
“Okay.”
I turned the pot and worked on the far side. The scrubber caught on a rough patch and I leaned into it. Maybe he should have taken the pot. All those muscles of his would be of more use than mine. “And the drone. I almost forgot the drone last season.”
“Okay.”
The extractor fan above the range pushed warm air down across the counter. Outside the small galley window small flurries lazily floated down from the sky.
