Starfall (Starflight #2)(61)
“Just breathe,” Solara murmured to him, her voice muffled by the mask.
He fisted his T-shirt and caused more water to pool on the floor. There hadn’t been time to change out of wet clothes. The old-fashioned treatment for the bends—a side effect of diving deep and resurfacing too fast—worked best if administered quickly, so they’d kicked off their boots and taken whatever towels were tossed at them before crowding inside a small metal capsule resembling a submarine. As for the guard they’d rescued, he was in the infirmary having the water evaporated from his lungs.
Cassia felt a fullness in her eardrums, a sign that recompression had begun. She moved her lower jaw to clear her ears. Once they popped, she reached over and patted Doran’s knee. “Almost done.”
The treatment ended, and they ducked through the chamber door to find Renny on the other side, greeting them with a smile and a change of clothes from the ship. Cassia had never been so happy to see her boring canvas pants. Modesty forgotten, she stripped off her wet things and changed right there in the infirmary. The rest of the crew did the same.
“Where’s Belle?” she asked after zipping up. Arabelle had piloted the shuttle and pulled them from the ocean, so a hug was in order.
Concern flitted across Renny’s face. “She’s lying down in her bunk.”
“Another headache?”
He nodded while absently flexing his fingers. He did that sometimes when he was nervous and fighting the impulse to steal. “It’s worse this time. She can barely see.”
“Probably a heat migraine,” Cassia said. It could happen quickly under two suns, especially to a light-skinned redhead like Arabelle. “I’ll bet she was dehydrated, too.”
“Yeah, that’s probably it.” Renny didn’t sound convinced, but he waved the crew over. “Come on. I want you to meet someone.”
He led them toward the wet lung station, where the guard they’d saved was lying in bed with a mask strapped over his face and a layer of bandages encircling his throat. An older man stood by his side, tall and rail-thin with a receding semicircle of gray hair clinging to his scalp. His weather-beaten skin marked him as a laborer, but he wore formal slacks and a dress shirt. He leaned down to shake the guard’s hand, and a look of mutual respect passed between them. The guard’s boss, perhaps.
As soon as Renny stopped at the guard’s bedside table, he snagged a roll of medical tape and smoothly tucked it in his pocket. “This is Prime Minister Ahmad,” he said, indicating the older man. “He wanted to thank you personally for what you did.”
The prime minister shook all their hands. When it was Cassia’s turn, she noticed his palm was callused, not what she expected from a politician.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” Ahmad said in a voice even rougher than his hands. He glanced at the guard, and emotion welled in his eyes. “This man is like a son to me. We used to mine ore on Hephaestus before we immigrated here. He loaned me the credits so I could afford the transport fare.”
The guard’s face colored. He seemed uncomfortable with the attention, and clearly Ahmad knew it, because he shrugged and offered the crew a grin. “Anyway, look at me now. Prime minister of the fastest-growing settlement in the fringe. A few years ago we started with a hundred crates of imported eggs from Earth. Now we raise more tuna than they do. Who’d have guessed it?”
“Was the tuna your idea?” asked Kane.
Ahmad nodded. “They used to farm delicacies here—mostly lobster and crab—to freeze and ship to the tourist circle, but there wasn’t enough of a market for it. After the investors pulled out and our old prime minister moved back to Earth, I took up a collection among the settlers who wanted to stay. We worked out a deal to transfer the charter and then ordered our first shipment of tuna eggs. The rest is history.”
As Cassia listened, she glanced out the window at the merchant dome in the distance. She’d once considered it a fetid and disgusting place, but her memories turned sweeter now that she knew the whole story. She couldn’t believe a group of settlers had accomplished so much in such a short time.
“You seem to be doing a great job,” Kane said.
“Ah, well.” Ahmed sheepishly tucked both hands in his pockets. “I try.” A faint beep sounded, and he touched his earpiece as if receiving a message. “Duty calls,” he told them, and delivered another round of handshakes before striding to the door. He paused and glanced at Renny. “Please keep me informed. I’ll do whatever it takes to get my men back.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Renny told him.
Cassia watched the prime minister leave. “Keep him informed? Does that mean you learned something?”
“Interesting that you should ask,” Renny said, and patted the guard’s shoulder. “This is Captain Forrester.” By way of introduction, the guard raised a weak hand. “His vocal cords are out of commission, but while you guys were in the tank, we chatted with this.” He lifted an electronic notepad from the table. “And he told me some interesting details about Fleece.”
The guard poked Renny in the ribs and made a twirling motion with one hand.
“Oh,” Renny said, nodding. “But first he wants me to say thank you. He knows it was a risk to bring him topside. He’s not sure why you didn’t leave him behind, but he’s grateful all the same.” After another prod, Renny added, “His wife thanks you, too. She’s expecting again, baby number…five, I think.”