It was like being in space, in free fall without a space suit.
For some reason that was the most utterly terrifying thing Elizabeth could imagine. She had to halt just outside the airlock for a long moment, her heart pounding. Crossing twenty feet of plastic tube seemed impossible.
Meanwhile, others passed her going in either direction, some of them trundling bulky packs of goods that weighed nothing in zero G.
Why was this so frightening? There was plenty of air. She could see people going to and fro breathing normally. No one even seemed stressed. This was no more extraordinary to the Travelers than… Than what? Than she would find it to cross a room? For a moment something else had presented itself, stepping into a tiny claustrophobic room without windows that took you very quickly between floors. Many people found that mode of transportation unnerving. Many aliens.
On Sateda? That didn’t seem right.
The intellectual puzzle was distracting. It had given her a moment to catch her breath. She could do this. She could cross twenty feet of space in a plastic tube. It didn’t feel like the worst thing she’d ever done. The key was not to look. Someone had told her that once. Don’t look. Just focus on the back of the person ahead of you.
A man brushed past her, an orange cloth duffel bag bulging at the seams as he dragged it behind him on its strap. Look at him. Look at the bag. Don’t look at the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the distant stars. She pushed off from the airlock following him. Watch the bag. Watch the man’s back.
A woman passed her going the other way. She was in the middle now. Keep watching the bag. The man had reached the far airlock, stopped and pulled it inside with him. He turned and waited for her, a friendly smile on his bearded face. Watch the man.
He reached out a hand and drew her the last few feet inside the dark aperture. “Here you go. Zero gravity takes some getting used to.”
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said. The airlock was small, the inner doors sealed. They waited until another person going their way came in. Then the man glanced down the tube to see if anyone else was coming. Elizabeth didn’t look that way. She studied the door panel.
“All clear,” he said cheerfully and reached past her to tap a yellow button.
“Doors closing,” a tinny voice announced, and the outer doors slowly slid shut. Elizabeth hoped she didn’t sigh with relief when she could no longer see the tube. “Airlock cycling,” the voice said.
“It does that just to be careful,” the man said. “There’s air all the way across but the ship has to equalize pressure as a matter of course.” He looked at her carefully. “You new around here?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said firmly, making sure her feet were on the marked floor. “I came aboard at Mazatla.”
“Where are you from?”
“Sateda,” Elizabeth said. “I was told you have a doctor aboard?”
“That would be Dekaas,” the man said. “And I’m Idrim Tollard. Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Elizabeth said.
“You can find him aft in the emergency ward, most likely,” Idrim said. “Follow the green signs. Green for health. You label that way on Sateda?”
“I don’t remember,” Elizabeth said.
“Door opening,” the tinny voice said, and the inner doors slid open into the corridor of a much larger ship. Two people with packages were waiting on the other side.
Idrim hauled his now-heavy bag inside. “Good luck to you,” he said.
“Thank you.” The green sign was on the opposite wall amid others, pointing down the hall to her left. She followed it down the long corridor, then right into a cross corridor that was broad enough for someone to pass with a gurney. Ahead there was a bulkhead door labeled with a large green dot, but it opened when she approached, sliding back into the wall jerkily. The owners of this ship had automatic doors, but they didn’t entirely work, an interesting thing to note.
The chamber beyond was brightly lit for a Traveler ship, the walls painted white to make it even lighter. There were three beds, all empty. Beside one of them a crewman was talking to an older man, his arm in a sling. The gray haired man put a small bottle into his free hand. “Take one of these every six hours to help with the swelling. It won’t do a lot for the pain, but it will bring the inflammation down and help some. The main thing is to not use that arm as much as possible.”
“I’ll do that,” the patient said. “Thanks, doc.”
“Come back day after tomorrow if we’re still here,” the doctor said, and turned to glance at Elizabeth. “What brings you here?” he asked easily. “Have a seat and tell me about it.” He gestured to two metal chairs by a table. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”
“My name is Elizabeth,” she said, and sat down. There was something about him that was reassuring, though he wore no white coat, whatever that was supposed to mean? He was sixty or so, clean shaven, with salt and pepper hair gone more white than dark, broad shoulders and a face that would have been exceptionally handsome in youth. He wore a brown tunic closed tight at the throat, and his expression was friendly. “I came aboard at Mazatla, and I was hoping you could help me.”
The doctor watched the man with his arm in a sling leave. “Tell me about it. My name is Dekaas, by the way.”
“It’s good to meet you, doctor,” she said politely.
He laughed. “Only by experience, not training. But I’ve had quite a lot of experience in my years.”
There was something about him that set her at ease, Elizabeth thought. Experience, yes. And experience of human nature.
“So what’s bothering you?”
“I’ve lost my memory.” Said like that it seemed crazy, but he only put his head to the side thoughtfully.
“All at once, or gradually over a period of time?”
“All at once, I think. I don’t really know.” Elizabeth shook her head. “The Mazatla found me lying in a field. I don’t remember anything before that. They thought I might have been attacked by criminals and left for dead, only I didn’t seem to have any injuries. I’m not Mazatla. The things that seem familiar — devices, technology. Suggested to them that I’m Satedan. But I don’t remember Sateda or anything about it.”
“So you do remember things.” His blue eyes were keen.
“A few things. Scenes.” Elizabeth hunted for the words. “Scattered memories. My parents, people I knew a long time ago. Nothing recent. Nothing since I was a young woman.”
“And are you old now?” Dekaas asked. “It seems to me that you aren’t so old. Mature, maybe. Not a young girl. But certainly not old.”
“I don’t know how old I am,” Elizabeth said. For some reason she thought she must appear younger than her actual age, or at least younger by several years than the span of her actual life. “Can’t you tell medically?”
“I could make a good guess if your life span has not been altered,” Dekaas said.
Elizabeth frowned. “How could that happen?”
“Any number of things.” Dekaas looked away, picking up a small notebook bound at the top of the page from the workbench, and a pen with it. “The Wraith.”
“Wouldn’t the Wraith have aged me?” She had heard that somewhere, knew it.
“Possibly. It’s also possible they would have extended your life.” Dekaas frowned thoughtfully. “But I’ve never heard of that erasing memory. Though I suppose the trauma…”
“How could they do that?” Elizabeth asked. Surely this was a secret, uncommon knowledge.
“It’s a gift reserved for favorite worshippers,” Dekaas said. “Or extraordinary circumstances. I can see that you might have been restored to life from near death, and that perhaps the trauma caused you to forget.”