Ashby took care to keep his voice low. The door to the med bay was shut, but he wouldn’t put eavesdropping past any of his crew. He knew that Kizzy, at least, was busy. He could hear her banging away in the kitchen. He had a feeling that a few of the bangs had nothing to do with repairing the stasie, and everything to do with her letting him know that she was upset.
“Nobody’s forcing you, Ohan,” Ashby said. “I just want you to consider the option.”
“I’ve examined it thoroughly,” Dr. Chef said. “It’s safe. I can guarantee that.”
Ohan shrunk away even more. “Safe,” they whispered. “Safe. This is murder, and you call it safe.”
Ashby ran his hand through his hair. As much as he felt that the virus itself was the murderer here, he knew this was a point he could not argue. “The person I spoke to said she had friends who had been cured. They can still navigate, Ohan, and they live long, healthy lives.”
“They take the Whisperer’s gifts, then kill it,” Ohan said. “You should not have spoken to them, Ashby. You should have taken their tech and left with your ears blocked. You should have left your food to rot before setting foot in that place.”
“I was doing what I thought was best for my crew,” Ashby said. “Just as I’m trying to do now.”
Ohan succumbed to a coughing fit. Ashby sat back and watched, knowing there was nothing he could do, not even lay a comforting hand on his crewmate’s back. His eyes met Dr. Chef’s. The doctor looked miserable. Here was a patient that he could easily treat, but the patient wouldn’t allow it. Ashby knew Dr. Chef wouldn’t push it, but he also was sure that this was going to gnaw away at his friend for a long time.
“Ohan,” Dr. Chef said, once Ohan could breathe again. “As someone who left his world behind, I understand how frightening this idea is for you. It was scary for me, too. But we’re your friends, Ohan. You could live a long time, here with us. We’d take care of you.”
Ohan was unconvinced. “Your friendship means much to us. As does your concern, though misguided. We know this must be difficult for you to understand. You kill microbes all the time, in your kitchens, on your cargo, without a second thought. But consider the bacteria living in your skins, your mouths, your guts, creatures you could not survive without. You, too, are a synthesis between organisms large and small. Ashby, would you destroy your mitochondria simply because they are not Human in origin? Because they do not belong?”
“We can’t live without mitochondria,” Ashby said. “But you could live without the Whisperer.”
Ohan shut his eyes tight. “No,” they said. “We could not. We would be someone else.”
Some time later, Ashby sat alone in his quarters, unlacing his boots. He was halfway through the left when the door spun open without warning. Sissix stood in the doorway, feathers on end. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Ashby sighed and went back to his laces. “Come in and shut the door.”
Sissix stood before him, hands on her hips. “Kizzy tells me there is a cure. A cure for what’s killing Ohan. One that would leave him able to navigate, and that would extend his life by a good century or so. She tells me you just came back from a planet full of happy, healthy people who all can attest to that. And apparently, that cure is in our med bay right now, and you’re just going to let it gather dust while Ohan lies shaking himself to death in a pool of his own sick.”
Ashby swung his eyes up to her. “You keep saying ‘his.’ ”
“Yes, because it finally occurred to me that Ohan is an individual, a sick man who needs our help.”
“Sissix, this is not my call. What do you want me to do? Tie them down and force it on them?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“You’re being ridiculous. I’m their employer, not their… their arbiter.”
“You’re his friend, and you’re letting him die.”
“I gave them the option, Sissix! They know it’s there! What the hell else am I supposed to do?” He threw the boot aside. “Sissix, this is not a matter of someone refusing medical treatment. This is their entire culture we’re talking about. This is their religion.”
“This is so fucking Human of you. Lie back and let the galaxy do whatever it wants, because you’re too guilty about how badly you fucked up your own species to ever take initiative.”
Ashby got to his feet. “What is it you people say? Isk seth iks kith? Let each follow xyr own path?”
Sissix’s eyes flashed. “That’s different.”
“How so?”
“That means don’t interfere with others if there’s no harm being done. There is harm being done here, Ashby. Ohan is dying.”
“If I told you to go back to Hashkath and bring your kids here to live with you, would you?”
“What are you even talking about?”
“If I told you that treating your children like strangers offends every bone in my milk-fed mammalian body, and that as your Human captain, I expect you to follow my moral code—”
“That’s different, Ashby, you know that’s—”
He lowered his voice. “Or if I wanted to be really old fashioned, I could tell you that it’s inappropriate for two of my crew to be coupling. Some Human captains still fire people for that, you know. They say it’s a bad idea on a long haul.”
Sissix froze. “How do…” She shook her head. “That’s none of your business.”
Ashby gave an incredulous laugh. “It’s none of my business? I’m your feather brother, Sissix. Since when is it not my business to know such things? Since when does an Aandrisk keep something like that to herself? Unless, of course, you’re making personal concessions for Human customs—”
“Shut up, Ashby.” She walked to the window, put her hands on the sill, and fell quiet. “I don’t even know Ohan. And I don’t just mean because he doesn’t talk to any of us. I mean that when he opens his mouth, I don’t know if he’s the one saying that he doesn’t want to be cured, or if the virus is making him do it. I don’t know if it’s him speaking, or the thing infecting his brain.”
“To Ohan, it’s both. And that’s probably closer to the truth. It’s not like the virus is sentient. It just… changes him. Them.”
Sissix gave him a look. “See. You do it, too.” The anger was bleeding out of her voice. Her feathers were beginning to lay flat. She sat on his bed. “I’m not okay with this, Ashby. I don’t care if I know him well or not. I’m not okay with losing family.”
Ashby sat beside her and took her hand. “I know you think I’m the bad guy in this,” he said. “But I’m not okay with it either.”
“I know,” she said. “But I still don’t see how you could sit there and not get angry with him.”
“It wasn’t my place.”
“Spoken like a true Exodan.” Her eyes searched his face. “How do you know about me and Rosemary?”
Ashby laughed. “The way she looks at you.”
“Oh, stars,” Sissix said. “Is it that obvious?”
“To me, at least.”
“To everyone?”
“Maybe. Nobody’s said anything to me about it.”
Sissix sighed. “It was her idea, you know. After Hashkath. She said she wanted to make things feel more like family for me. She was so damn sweet about it. She’s sweet about everything.” She fell back against the mattress. “Ashby, I have no frame of reference of what it’s like for Humans to couple. I’m so scared I’m going to mess her up. You know how differently our species go about these things. I’m not… am I being selfish?”
“Sex is always a little selfish, Sis,” he said. “But I highly doubt she’s sleeping with you out of charity. I bet she wanted to way before Hashkath.” He smiled at her. “But I know you. You wouldn’t have said yes if you didn’t care about her, too. Rosemary’s an adult. She can handle herself. And I think in a way, you two might be good for each other.” He paused. “Although…”