Page 8 of Music of the Ocean

“No.” Saxby refused to glance at the hand that had been in the ocean.

Vance fixed the IV, then scrolled through his notes. “You know, if you were a fish, this would be perfect blood chemistry.”

Saxby forced a laugh. “Totally human, as you well know.”

Vance snorted. “No offense, but you look like you just crawled out of a bucket of chum. Get some rest after this IV finishes. And no more skipping your check-ins.”

Saxby nodded, the surge of salt and clarity from the drink fading to a low, persistent ache. The saline burned cold as it threaded up his arm. He shifted on the thin hospital mattress, feeling every seam and wrinkle dig into his body. “Anyone else on the team having symptoms?”

Vance checked his screen. “Nope. Just you. Which is why I think it’s something you already had going on before we were planetside.”

Saxby closed his eyes and let the chill in his veins drown out the dull roar in his head.

He must have dozed, because when he opened his eyes, the IV bag was nearly empty and the ship’s ambient lighting had faded to a moody dusk. He sat up. The headache was gone, replaced by a hunger that made his belly cramp.

Saxby returned to his quarters and checked his schedule. He’d never had forty-eight hours with nothing to do on a ship as busy as the SC Heathglow. Days off, sure, but not two full rotations where no one expected him to stand a watch, file a report, or even show up for breakfast.

Vance had texted him the order, which came directly from Command, no less, and told him to consider it medical leave. Shit. Vance had involved Captain Mollen. That was the last thing Saxby wanted.

“Try to rest. Maybe go to the Holodeck and get some fishing in,” Vance had said, which was a joke, because there were no fish, and no ocean, and if there had been, Saxby would have wanted to stay as far from one as possible.

He’d made it halfway to the Mess before he realized he wasn’t hungry. His body craved salt, but the idea of food was suddenly revolting. He wandered the crew deck instead.

The sounds of the ship were all wrong. They were too sharp. He catalogued every footstep, every distant snippet of conversation, every gentle chime. He found himself in one of the observation nooks, which was basically nothing more than a little alcove lined with faded blue cushions.

But it did have a fantastic view of the local star. This sector was mostly empty, thank the gods. It was just him, the planet they’d surveyed, and the blankness of open space.

Saxby pressed his forehead to the viewport and let the chill sink through his skull. It helped a little. The ache behind his eyes receded.

He caught his reflection in the glass, warped by the curve of the window. He looked like a stranger. Hollowed. Pale. He raked his fingers through his hair and tried to steady his breathing.

The hum of the life support system thrummed through the bulkhead, and for a second, he thought he could sense the ocean planet below, still moving, still watching.

His comm vibrated, and he glanced at it, hoping it was a message from Abe, Kira, or even a spam ping from the Rec Deck. Instead, it was Vance again.

How you feeling? If you want company, I’m off shift at 18:00. Can bring cards or beer.

Saxby typed back.

Let’s do beer. Cards if I don’t fall asleep first.

His eyes burned, so he shut them. When he opened them, the blue cushions had gone from inviting to oppressive, like the walls were slowly giving way. He needed to move.

He wandered to the gym. Not because he wanted to work out, but because the treadmill was the only place on the ship where you could run in a straight line for as long as you wanted.

The gym was empty, thankfully, so he set the speed to a slow jog, braced his hands on the rail, and started walking. It was supposed to be a mindless exercise, but his thoughts refused to go blank.

With every step, he saw the ocean again, heard the splash of its waves, felt the heaviness in the air. He’d grown up inland, surrounded by more concrete than lakes, but now the mere thought of water made his heart stutter.

He lasted ten minutes before fatigue got the better of him, and he returned to his quarters.

ARTIFICIAL LIGHT woke him the next morning, and he swore. Vance was already in mother hen mode, and Saxby sleeping through their time together was going to send his friend straight over the edge, damn it.

Saxby sent a quick comm message to Vance, explained he’d fallen asleep, and then went to grab some grub. On the way to the Mess Hall, he got a comm back full of frowny faces and a demand to come to Medical after he ate breakfast.

Shit.

He got a tray and found a seat off to himself. Shoulders hunched, he picked at the eggs, toast, bacon, and pancakes. The food didn’t taste exactly right, so he doused everything in sodium chloride and chased each bite with a swig of cold water.