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before they came for me, but the Omorr wasn’t known for his patience. He used a medical override to bypass the locking mechanism on my door panel and hopped in with the oKiaf and a Jorenian nurse in tow.
    “Power down that terminal,” he told me. “You are coming with me to Medical.”
    “I’m not deaf.” I switched off the monitor. “You don’t have to shout.”
    “I am not . . .” He exhaled and inhaled before speaking in a softer voice. “Forgive me. I am deeply concerned about you.”
    “Why?” I faced him. “I’m fine.”
    “You are anything but fine,” he snapped. “You have shunned all interactions with the crew. You have not answered a single signal sent to these quarters. You are irrational, antisocial, and displaying obsessive-compulsive behavior.”
    I folded my arms. “Squilyp, we both know that’s just me, even on a good day.”
    “I disagree. I believe you are suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.” He took a medical case from the nurse and opened it. “What would you classify a patient who for days refused to leave a computer terminal or sleep?”
    “A busy insomniac who doesn’t want to talk to anyone.” I smiled. He turned a beautiful shade of dark rose pink whenever he was agitated. “I promise, I am not on the verge of an emotional collapse. How do you know I haven’t been sleeping?”
    “Deeply traumatic events such as you have endured often trigger such breaks.” He removed a syrinpress and dialed up a dosage of something on it.
    “No, that’s not it.” I glanced around my quarters, the quarters my ClanBrother had so thoughtfully arranged for me. “I didn’t think to check for recording drones. You must have gotten quite a show whenever I cleansed. When did Xonea decide to sanction gross violations of personal privacy?”
    “We thought it prudent to keep you under close monitor,” the Omorr said, “in the event you required assistance.”
    “No one wants to see me naked anymore.” I released a theatrical sigh and turned to Shon. “If the Senior Healer tries to sedate me, I will be leaving, and you’ll have to take him back to Medical and surgically remove that syrinpress from his esophagus. Are you up for that, or should I explain the extraction procedure to you first?”
    “Enough of this, Cherijo.” Squilyp was shouting again.
    Shon stepped between us. “Senior Healer, please.” He regarded me. “Cherijo, the captain has received orders to return at once to Joren. To do so, he must make two interdimensional jumps. Now.”
    I’d never handled dimensional transitions very well. “That’s the real reason you wanted me back in Medical?” I asked Squilyp.
    “Yes,” Shon answered quickly for him.
    “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” I slipped on my footgear.
    Squilyp bided his time, following me to the lift and entering it along with the oKiaf and the nurse. All three of them tried to visually assess me while trying not to be obvious about it. Considering how small the lift was, that took some doing.
    “I’ve been taking regular breaks to eat and cleanse,” I said mildly. “I’m not experiencing any weakness, sensory disruption, or pain. No headaches, vision problems, new memory loss, or any other abnormal or unusual symptoms, either. So quit worrying.”
    “I do not worry,” Squilyp snapped. “Are you giving yourself stimulants in order to remain awake?”
    “No. I haven’t felt tired.” It was partly true. Something was driving me now, something big and dark and seething, and I didn’t care to shine an internal light on it. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll probably lose consciousness as soon as the ship transitions. Then you can poke and prod me as much as you like until I wake up.”
    If I woke up. No one questioned the possibility that the slave girl might come back instead, but they were all thinking it. So was I.
    My calm demeanor was as much an act as my rational attitude, but they didn’t know that, and I