Truth and Beauty 2-10

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Molly returned with their entrees, breaking the flow of their conversation, and Stephen applied himself to his dinner with the attention that it deserved: the sirloin was indeed excellent, a bone-in cut; and was accompanied by lightly-steamed vegetables, still crunchy; and mashed potato with brown flecks of potato skin mixed through it, perfect for greedily mopping up the steak’s juices and consuming them, too. Only once his meal had been reduced to a wreckage of bone and scraps of fat did he return to the subject of serving as a ship’s doctor, “I presume that the Navy provides its ships with instruments, equipment, and so on? These would not have to be provided by the physician?”

“Oh, yes,” said Jack. “Mercury Hall sends a chest aboard, which belongs to the ship. Saws, knives, hooks, that sort of thing. And a medicine cabinet of sorts - I think sloops generally get the kind that prints drugs to order - what’s the learned term?”

“Compounds?”

“Yes, that’s it. Confounds each medicine as needed, so you don’t have a proper cabinet, just the printer.”

“You can bring your own tools if you wish, though,” said Jevons, “In the Juno, Captain Weiss, Mr Richards was a lefty, and he brought a selection of left-handed saws and such.”

“So why not come along?” said Jack. “We won’t be able to get you an appointment from Mercury Hall before Wrath ships out, but come along as my guest. The surgeon’s cabin should be free, and even if it isn’t, we’ll make room.”

“Well,” said Stephen, “I believe you’ve convinced me. I believe I could take a month or so away from my duties here on land.”

“Excellent!” said Jack. “I will need to report aboard tonight but I could send a midshipman for you, shall we say 4pm here at the inn?”

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Truth and Beauty 2-9

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Stephen paused, picking up his glass to give himself time to consider and unthinkingly tipping the amber fluid into his mouth. Was Jack truly serious? There seemed to be no reason to think otherwise, yet he had been deceived before. Was he, Stephen, being overly cautious? “It is an occupational hazard,” he admitted to himself quietly, “a professional deformation.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Jack, who had seen Stephen’s lips move but hadn’t made out the words.

“Merely thinking aloud,” said Stephen. “If I was to join you, when would we depart, and when would we return?”

“We have no orders yet,” said Jack. “Customarily a new captain is given 72 hours in harbor before shipping out for the first time, and then the first cruise is typically only for a month or so - a shakedown cruise, so to speak, for everyone to get to know each other and the captain to get to know the vessel, how fast she is, her crew’s strengths —” when the arrival of their appetizers cut him short.

The clash of cutlery on crockery dominated the table for several minutes, punctuated briefly by comments as “how is your soup, sir, I think you have the chowder?”, and, “very good, sir, and your salad?”, but Stephen, deep in thought, said nothing. Banks would be the only barrier, he thought, and as his work has hardly been constant, he could hardly object. Nevertheless—, “I would have to see about coverage,” he said to Jack. “I presume that normal phones do not work deep in space?”

“I am afraid they don’t,” said Jack, putting down his spoon. “Email neither. We can write them, of course, but for anything more than an AU or so we have to wait for a vessel bound in that direction.”

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Truth and Beauty 2-8

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“I am an internist,” said Stephen. “I also do some surgery.”

“Really?” said Jack. “Really?” He picked up the bottle and poured for Jevons and himself, let the spout hover over Stephen’s glass; then, having not been waved off, poured for him as well. “I suppose it would be too much to ask of luck for me to find a new ship’s surgeon just as soon as I lose the old one. You’d think the Sick and Hurt representative for the home sector would be an upstanding, God-fearing fellow but no, I expect I’ll have to ship out without one.” He raised his glass, Jevons did the same, and without thinking, Stephen did, too. “You have no idea what a hypochondriac you common sailor is,” Jack went on, “and suspicious, too. Sailing without a surgeon is terribly bad luck, they feel.”

“But I am in no way qualified to be a ship’s physician,” said Stephen. “Surely there must be special classes, examinations, that sort of thing?”

“If you’re a physician then you’re overqualified,” said Jevons, pouring another round. “Sloops and other unrated vessels typically get med-school drop-outs, or else RNs tired of working at the old folks home. Drunks, most of them, too, though the sailors worship them just the same. Roth’s surgeon was regularly speechless by lights out, the sot.”

“I remember in the Perdition the surgeon drank himself to death off Tortuga y Coney,” said Jack, then, changing tack, “but it is not all so melancholy, think of this prize money! With his share, the surgeon of the Ethalion is setting up his carriage and retiring! Come, sir, cannot I tempt you to come to space?”

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