Indentured (Book 2 of the Dana Halliday series)

MAGGIE B. EFFEN. NO SPOON.

I stepped out into subdued red sunset and the scent of warm tar and pavement, startling and evocative. The last time I'd been on Earth, it had been autumn, almost winter. The only other planet with an atmosphere had been Tirza 50, and I'd been too distracted both times I'd visited to notice much about the climate. The air on Magnolia Base was so dense and humid it clogged my mouth and throat like peanut butter. Mmm, peanut butter.

"It smells so...so good," I said.

Flynt stood beside me, scenting the air in a bored manner. "It smells like a hot, dirty city."

To me, it smelled like a farmer's market: soil, spices, something heavenly baking, numerous kinds of smoke, sawdust, oil. "You're the one with the superhero nose.  I can smell about a hundred different things, and you just say it smells like a hot, dirty city?"

Serendipity loomed behind us, yet she looked like a pop-up camper amongst a fleet of giant RV's. None of the other spacecraft at the Magnolia Base shipyard was less than five times our vessel's size. As Serendipity seemed enormous to me, I had been stunned by almost every other large craft I'd seen so far.

It had been three Earth months since we had left Natalya and her uncle, Yuri, on Tirza 50. I received word every few weeks from Yuri about her progress; she was nearly recovered from the head injury and other trauma I'd treated. The last communication had come with an invite to her wedding, which was going to take place here on Maggie B, only a few months later than they had planned before the accident.

The Qir, whom we had assisted with their limping derelict of a ship, had decided to stay on Maggie B while their ailing vessel was overhauled. It had taken the entire three months since we had reunited with them to get it in working order. The expedition had rented out the top floor of an apartment building, and we were on our way to visit them.

Adrian chuckled. "The glass is always half-empty to a Fenn nose."

"Not true.  There's lilac blooming somewhere."

I couldn't smell any flowers, but there you go. I adjusted my backpack of doctor tools. "What are we waiting for? God, it's good to be on the ground."

"Now you're talking like a nomie," Adrian said. This term, short for nomad, was local English-speaking Earther slang for those who spent most of their time traveling in space. Before he'd explained the etymology of the word, I'd imagined little bearded garden gnomes on the bridge of the Enterprise, or maybe piloting a Firefly.

We set off toward the shipyard's exit, my dog, Billie, trotting at the end of her leash with her nose up. Maybe she liked lilac, too. We had to weave between and around other vessels, most so large I couldn't see much of the sky, never mind the city. Adrian had bitched about the crowding, but there wasn't much of a choice; it had been a busy day at the shipyard, apparently.

I had spent some of my time over the previous three months running exhaustive tests on the Qir blood samples I'd obtained. I suspected a vitamin C deficiency as the cause for the mystery illness that had afflicted a good chunk of the children on the expedition, caused by the inappropriate rations they'd purchased prior to their departure. Yes, scurvy, and where else would you expect to find scurvy but on a ship? The little folk shared at least one thing with Earthers.

Adrian and Flynt had alternated taking me on small rescue missions, depending on which one was working the most on the Qir ship. I had treated numerous minor injuries among a half-dozen different species, nothing scary beyond my unfamiliarity with life-forms not of Earth. Being a veterinarian, I was used to multiple species, but having patients that could actually answer questions?  That took some getting used to.