Some Fine Day by Kat Ross Page B

meager personal items. But the food was good and plentiful. It had to be, since we were burning about three thousand calories a day in training.
    The sandwich tastes as nasty as it looks but I gobble it down in four bites. My hands are so dirty they leave black smudge marks on the bread. I feel like a feral cat that’s been coaxed into the light with a scrap of food, fur on end and bracing for a kick at any moment. But the boy has the decency to pretend not to notice, looking me in the eye with neither animosity nor disgust. I sense an anger simmering there, though I’m not sure who it’s directed at.
    “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a look at your back,” he says. “You’re lucky; whatever injured you missed the right lung by less than an inch.”
    “Are you a doctor?” I ask warily.
    “I’m a physic,” he says. “I help sick people, if that’s what you mean.”
    I sit awkwardly on the bed, trying to keep my nightgown from riding up, as he inspects the wound. He doesn’t touch me. I appreciate that.
    “What was it?” he asks.
    “Glass shard,” I say, pulling my coat back on.
    “Yes, I thought something like that. The edges are sharp and neat, no tearing. Deep puncture though, infection is what we need to be on the lookout for now.”
    He reminds me of the Academy medic, a brisk but humane woman who was ruthlessly proficient at putting our battered bodies back together again.
    “Can you tell me how long we’ve been at sea?” I ask.
    “Nine and a half days.”
    I picture the beach at Archipelago Six, no doubt still crawling with military. I’m sure my father is among them. He’d be pulling out all the stops, especially when they fail to recover my body. I have no idea how far a ship can sail in that amount of time, but it must be hundreds of miles at least.
    “What are you going to do with me?” I ask, wishing he’d offer me some more food.
    “That depends on Captain Banerjee,” he replies evenly.
    “Are you the one who sewed me up?”
    He looks at me and I notice that his left iris is slightly bluer than his right, which is more of a slate grey color. “Yes, I am. You were in bad shape. Some of us thought. . .”
    “It wasn’t worth it?”
    He shrugs, embarrassed.
    “What’s your name?” I ask, thinking I should try to make friends with the ones who don’t seem to want me dead.
    He hesitates, but only for a moment. “It’s Will.”
    “OK then, thanks Will,” I say. “I guess you saved my life.”
    He shrugs again, as if that’s not a burden he really wants to carry. “It’s my job. I’m sorry I didn’t come to check on you sooner. You shouldn’t have been left like that. I’ve been stretched thin these last few days.” He points to the corner. “There’s a bucket there, and a towel, if you want to clean up a little.”
    I nod. Anything to prolong my time out of the hold. The thought of going back fills me with dread. We could be at sea for weeks. I’m afraid I’ll go crazy if they leave me in there.
    He excuses himself, locking the cabin door behind him. The saltwater burns like fire on my half-healed cuts and scrapes but it leaves me feeling human again, even if I have to put my dirty clothes back on at the end. When I’m done, I lick the last crumbs off the plate and sit down on the bed. I don’t wait long.
    A minute later, the door bangs open. It’s the woman with the scar and the braid. Her left arm is in a sling. She doesn’t have to tell me that she’s the law around here. It’s evident in the way she holds herself.
    “You’re a bloody tough one, aren’t you?” she says without preamble.
    This doesn’t seem to require a response, so I keep my mouth shut.
    “OK, listen up. We need another physic. Will’s overwhelmed, and we took a lot of casualties last week. I’m not in the habit of picking up strays, but you’re a special case. You have skills.” She pauses and her gaze narrows a fraction. “Just don’t mistake my generosity for