A Reason to Stay

The last minutes before upthrust had been hectic ones. With help from both Elle and Gill, the three of them had managed to rush the medical crate and luggage back aboard. Now, the crate was anchored, and Dorian had seen to getting luggage back into rooms. All with about five minutes to spare.

It was surprising just how quickly the boat could return to a sense of order. They were in the black, Beaumonde to their thrusters as they pointed toward Silverhold, a flight of eight days’ duration. The medical supplies had been replenished, thanks to their earnings from Verbena. Now, in his shirtsleeves, Dorian settled onto the tall stool before his workstation.

Amid the usual journal reports and follow up messages, he saw Yeva’s first message, introducing herself as the Saigon Blossom’s latest medic. *That’ll please Dr. Lao,* he thought of the woman whose brainchild was now serving the underprivileged folk of the black through two modernized medical bays. Of course, the fact that their communications net might become the base for a resurgent browncoat movement needn’t be revealed in light of the obvious physical good they’d be providing.

He’d just sent congratulatory messages when the medbay door slid open. “Hello, Sistah,” Dorian offered a smile to the nun before taking stock of her expression. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s… shiny, and all of a sudden.” Lyen walked cautiously into the bay, watching the ceiling and the floor. “I was just packing my things...and I was coming to you to--to say goodbye. I was going to leave with Marisol. We were going who knows where to do who knows what.” The gravity of what could have been was slowly setting in.

He nodded his understanding. “Fortunately, that didn’t need to happen.”

She nodded, “But there you are: ‘Right as tha mail.’ And I know Marisol’s just up the gangway. I saw them anchoring your crates again. Were you leaving, too?” Ly cast for Yeva’s books, her studying cards, but they were nowhere in sight. “And Yeva?” The nun exhaled leaning against his desk. “I can’t help but feel more than a little foolish.” Her head was tilted, staring at the screen as if it might reveal her folly. Instead, its blue light shone as it always had: a familiar and inviting blink accentuated by the whirling machinery beside and the bass of the Lunar Veil’s heartbeat. It’s engine was being watched over by a singularly fiery force. Unpredictable and familiar. A thrill and a worry.

Dorian’s eyes glittered in the light, and Lyen realized she’d been miles away with a clearing of her throat.

“Well, then,” he permitted his eyes a casual drop, “Ah shouldn’t feel foolish at all, Sistah. If Ah were tah sum up tha rathah hasty goings-on fah yeah, they’d best be explained by saying “Riley moves in mysterious ways.” With a soft chuckle, Dorian shared his account of just what had occurred after he’d left the boat to join Marisol, and the ensuing reconciliation with a very open and forthright Lieutenant Riley. “So they agreed,” he concluded of the new, shorter chain of command, “shook on it, and both got back tah work. Yeva joined her new boat, an’ took our Rebel tah meet tha new captain’s sons.” He gestured toward the onscreen messages. “She’s already logged in as the medic.” He offered a smile. “And so, a morning’s brief turmoil hath begotten growth,” Dorian lifted a hand. “That seed yah planted on tha back side of Ezra is sproutin’ branches.”

“Back to work, just like that…” Ly lightly chewed the inside of her lip. What had felt so urgent and pressing within her was again being lulled back into a sense of lukewarm uncomfortableness. When they were leaving she felt the need to divulge everything and completely to Marisol. But perhaps the hispanic woman had seen more in those raw moments of acquiescence than the nun expected to express? Perhaps she’d tipped her hand and there was no secret to carry. Or perhaps Marisol hadn’t seen it in her eyes, considering the stress she was bearing.

When Doc called attention to Yeva’s new post and the significance of it, Ly brushed it aside with a smile, “Really, again? You talked two strangers through a frightening eye surgery and I ‘planted the seed?’” She shook her head, “All I had were steady hands. You’re the hero. I do miss the eye patch, though. I could have picked you up a hook to go with it.” Lyen crossed her arms, head tilted to the side, picturing the ensemble.

Dorian smirked; he had to admit that in this moment, he treasured the closeness and camaraderie of the boat. After all, people like Lyen….and Serena…..were rare to find in the ‘verse. How fortunate he was that Riley had managed to cut through the mess and put things right as they could be, in her inimitable style. If he were lucky enough to visit her tonight, he’d express those thoughts. “Ah wouldn’t presume tah poach Haddie’s style,” he chuckled. “Perhaps tha next time we’re invited tah a costume party.”

The medic’s expression grew serious. “This mornin’ proved important tah me. Ah suddenly came tah grips with tha fact that Ah hadn’t been a very good friend... tah mah best friend. When Ah admitted that tah her,” he told the nun, “she put her arms around me an’ reaffirmed that friendship. So, Ah’m a very grateful man, Sistah.” Dorian rose from the stool, taking a step toward Lyen. “Is there a prayah fah gratitude? Fah tha love of friends?”

She watched as Dorian approached, the tone of his voice changed to something vulnerable and searching. It lit something in Lyen to see him seek out the spiritual in the midst of physical turmoil. With the medic, she felt like she was actually teaching--guiding those who sought enlightenment along their path. Others on the boat might have complicated feelings about her presence or her commitment, but not Dorian.

“There is a meditation I know,” she straightened from leaning against his desk, hands resting in the Lotus. “It says:

With gratitude I remember the people and creatures of the sky and sea, air and water, fire and Earth, all whose joyful exertion blesses my life every day.
With gratitude I remember the care and labor of a thousand generations of elders and ancestors who came before me.
I offer my gratitude for the blessing of the ‘Verse I have been given.
My gratitude for the teachings and lessons others have given me.
My gratitude for the community I live among.
My gratitude for the friends I live alongside.”

Lyen caught Dorian’s gaze, “For the love of friends who, like family, watch over one another with loving kindness, I am grateful.”

“And Ah am,” the medic replied to his assistant. “Such friendships are a rarety,” he met the nun’s eye. “Ah am so fortunate tah have two of them on tha same boat. You an’ Marisol have impacted me in so many ways.” He folded his arms and leaned casually against the counter. “She was lookin’ fah yah.”

No matter how many times the medic mentioned his fondness, Lyen couldn’t stop the rush of color to her cheeks. Ten years of modesty above all else; of deflecting attention toward inner reflection. She was just beginning to learn the familiar rhythms of affection in more than the spiritual sense. Love and walking in love felt subtly different to the nun. Recognizing love as personal buy-in from each member of a community stood in contrast to love from one individual to another.

A conflicted smile reached her eyes, “I know what you mean. Friendship, from both of you, has gotten me through some difficult paths of my own. I count our friendship among my chief possessions in the ‘Verse.” Sometimes it was difficult to remember that they were all eternal beings, tethered here for a short time. But in the realness of the flesh and blood, the quickening heart spoke loudest.

“I… uhm, yeah, I need to talk with her.” Idly, Ly’s hand rose to the braid draped over her shoulder.

He wasn’t quite certain just what he was seeing in Lyen at the moment. As he spoke Marisol’s name, there was a subtle brightening to the nun’s eyes, that just as quickly seemed to fade into a troubling sense of confusion. *Funny,* he thought to himself, *Marisol’s been reacting the same way….oh,* his cognition bridged the gap. A smile of understanding hinted at the corners of his mouth. *I wonder if they’ve figured it out?*

“Well,” he said at last, “we’ve got eight days’ flight time...tha perfect opportunity tah begin yah studies.”

“Studies? Oh, right, the certification exam. I completely forgot.” That meant late nights cooped up with study materials. If she had any luck, Yeva may have squirreled her books and notes away for her somewhere on board. Right now studying was the furthest from her mind, but perhaps it could provide a good distraction. “Yeva wouldn’t have happened to leave behind her materials, would she?” She looked around: this place was going to become the most familiar sight on the boat while she prepped. It may behoove her to take the on-call night shift as Yeva had, if it was still needed. That way she’d have ample time to study while the crew slept. With less people aboard in critical condition, she may be of more use during the day.

The medic pointed toward a drawer. “Ah believe she kept her materials in there. Yah welcome tah work here, if yah wish,” Dorian gestured toward the work station. “Got a bit of study mahself,” he chuckled. “We can keep our own hours in transit, so feel free tah set yah work times...yah know, in between extracurriculah activities like food fights, and such.”

Dorian’s comment elicited a bright chuckle from Lyen, “Can you even guess how hard I had to scrub to get the ketchup out of this?” Her hands smoothed her robes, perhaps not as brilliant as they once were. In the sterile light of the medbay, though, it looked worse than she remembered. *I had better find some new robes next port*, she mused. “The entire crew knows, but not one of you stood up to Marisol for me. Some battles you have to wage alone, I suppose.” Her smile became a knowing smirk. “I’ll take that offer, and I think the night shift might suit me. Better coverage, less distractions. I might even take up drinking coffee.”

“Caffeine addiction,” Dorian quipped, “tha mark of medical students everywhere. Typical ovahnight shift is nineteen hundred tah oh-seven hundred. As Ah’m always on call, don’t feel as if yah have tah observe that in a rigid fashion.” He returned to his stool. “Of course, if we get a patient, Ah’ll call yah in.”

“Deal, partner,” Ly moved to the drawer he’d indicated and thumbed through a book, “You know on Santo I heard about coffee brewed with eggs and egg shells. Sounds to me like someone was a little too eager to wait for breakfast and coffee respectively.” Her eyebrows rose, “Could be the perfect late night elixir.” She replaced the book and squared with Dorian, “Nineteen to oh-seven works well for me. I know where you sleep in case I need you, and vice versa.” The next step was to find Marisol, now, having chewed off the Doc’s ear, but her feet were playing dumb.

“Remembah what Ah told yah!” Dorian called from the open doorway. “Ah will send Haddie aftah yah!”

With a wave and a subtle chuckle, the nun left the medic to his terminal. Haddie! She’d have to catch up with her and explain why she was still around. And she’d have to answer for her last-ditch prank, as well. Ahead was the engine room, and Lyen’s heart began racing in time with the Lunar Veil’s.