Here Be Dragons (13 page)

Elena glanced back at the medical office. Hassoun was floating in the doorway, shoulders hunched. He’d been following Rivkah outside.

“Mr. Masri.”

She nodded to him, unsure of what else to say. She found maintenance inspections to be soothing—a holdover from her own days as a boatswain—and all the anger had gone out of her. But Hassoun didn’t know that, and it seemed unprofessional to tell him in front of another officer.

Hassoun nodded to Rivkah.

“Doctor.”

He departed without another word. He hadn’t looked Elena in the eye.

“I have a personal request to make of you, Captain.” Rivkah spoke as if they had not been interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Today is the first day of Passover, and tonight I will hold a seder. I would be honored if you would attend.”

Elena suddenly remembered that this was the day off that Rivkah had requested. She tried on a smile.

“I’m honored that you would want me there, Doctor.”

“You don’t know what a seder is.”

“No. I’m sorry, I knew that you had requested a holiday for religious reasons, of course. And I understand that completely. I grew up in the Church, after all. More than one, actually.”

“You are not religious.”

“No, I am not. How did you know?”

“No one says they grew up in the Church if they are still of it.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Elena said. “I may not be religious, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect yours. I just don’t know much about it.”

“There’s no need to apologize for that, Captain. There are so few of us to teach you these days, after all. If you should like to learn, come to the wardroom at 1900 hours. That is when the sun will set over Jerusalem.”

“The wardroom?”

Rivkah smiled for the first time.

“Chief Officer Nishtha has been kind enough to reserve it for my use.”

Elena made a mental note to commend Vijay for his beneficence later. There was no way to hold a religious ceremony in one of the cramped senior officer’s quarters.

“I’ll be there, doctor. Should I bring anything with me?”

“I will have prepared everything that we shall need. I will see you in a few hours, Captain.”

Rivkah turned and glided aft, towards the hatch and the wardroom on the other side. One more thing occurred to Elena, and she called through the door as it closed.

“Will there be anyone else there?”

“Yes,” Rivkah said.

The door slid shut.

Elena arrived at 6:55 pm sharp. She was about to ring the bell to the wardroom when Hassoun appeared in the compartment and came to attention.

“At ease, Mr. Masri. We can go in together.”

He smiled nervously and joined her at the threshold. Hassoun was right to be anxious. He was a junior officer in the presence of the captain who had chewed him out, and an Arab joining a Jew for Passover. Elena didn’t know which was more awkward.

As they had in Europe, attitudes towards Jews in the Arab world had changed only when there were no more Jews to hate. Hassoun’s ancestors had played no part in the Second Holocaust—they were to blame neither for Tel Aviv, nor its bloody aftermath. His country had even opened its borders to the Israelis and Palestinians fleeing the fallout and the violence. But an Arab could no more escape the past than a German could.

There were was only one table inside the wardroom, set against the forward wall next to the door, opposite the small galley aft. Rivkah had set four plates. There would be no burning of candles aboard
Gabriel,
but she had managed to scrounge a spare tritium tube, and it glowed softly at the center of the table. Fixed in the slots next to the plates were four small handbooks.

“There will be one more,” Rivkah said. “Have a seat, it does not matter where.”

Each of the four plates—they were certainly not standard Agency issue, though Elena felt certain that they had seen more time in service than she had—were ringed by a six circular indentations around their edges, like the airlock bowls set into
Gabriel’s
hull. Each had been painted with a single Hebrew letter. Elena sat down and anchored her legs, and opened one of the handbooks and discovered, to her relief, that it was written in English—though it strangely appeared to have been printed backwards.

The door opened again, and Ikenna entered. He seemed unsurprised at everyone and everything that he saw, and took a seat at Elena’s right. Hassoun was on her left. Rivkah exited the kitchen, arms ladled with goods. She worked while she spoke.

“Before we begin,” Rivkah said, “I must ask. Who is the youngest at this table? It is certainly not me.”

“I am thirty six years old,” Ikenna said.

“I’ll be damned if I’ll say it out loud,” Elena said.

“I’m thirty,” Hassoun laughed. “I guess that’s me. Why?”

“The youngest asks the questions,” Rivkah said. “You can open your haggadahs.”

Though Rivkah did not explain, they all deduced that this was the name of the handbooks she had given them. Elena opened it to the first page once more, and briefly debated calling attention to the error she had found.

“Turn to the end,” Hassoun said to her. Elena flipped the pages, and fund that the haggadah began at its conclusion.

“Hebrew is written right to left,” he explained. He glanced at Rivkah, and she smiled slightly. “Like Arabic.”

“Pretend that I am lighting a candle,” she said.

First she tied to each place a full beverage pouch, and placed a fifth before an empty seat. Then she took a spoon and carefully dabbed each of the indentations with a dollop of food paste. Each indentation got a different flavor, and each one was wet and heavy to help it stick to the plate and not float away. Rivkah took four small balls of bread from her bag, and tied them to a table inside a plastic pouch. Finally she raised a large bag of dark red liquid, and bowed her head over it and began to speak softly. Elena caught the words, but did not understand any of them. She supposed that Rivkah was praying in Hebrew.

When she was finished, Rivkah extended the bag’s tube and pumped each of the five pouches full of liquid. Then she sat down.

“Tonight, we drink four cups of wine, to remember the promises that God made to my people four thousand years ago. Captain, would you like to read the promises?”

Elena cleared her throat.

“‘I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under your burdens. I will deliver you from slavery, and I will redeem you with an outstretched hand and great judgments. I will take you to be my people, and as the Lord your God, you will know that I have delivered you from the tyranny of evil men.’”

“Have a drink,” Rivkah said. They sipped from their pouches, which had been filled with grape juice. There was no alcohol aboard
Gabriel,
but Elena could almost taste the wine that the priests and the nuns had given her during the Eucharist, all those years ago
.

Rivkah took a wet sponge, one that held water tightly and didn’t let it escape. She turned to Ikenna and gestured. He obediently held out his gloved hands, and she rubbed the sponge over them lightly before letting it soak the water back up. It might have seemed pointless, as they were all wearing full body uniforms that covered their hands, but no one at the table appeared to think so. This pattern repeated around the table, until Hassoun had washed Rivkah’s hands and returned the sponge to her.

Elena soon got the hang of following Rivkah from one step to the next, of which there appeared to be fifteen. Rivkah would first recite from the haggadah, always in Hebrew. Elena didn’t mind this—she hadn’t understood the Latin spoken at Catholic mass either. Occasionally, the doctor would ask one of the others to read aloud in English. Then they would eat one of the courses she had prepared. The first, a green sauce, appeared to be celery paste.

Rivkah took a single piece of bread from the bag, and broke it in two. One piece went back to the bag, and one was given to Hassoun, who accepted it bemusedly. He stared down at the food in his hand as if he had never seen such a thing before. It was dense and hard, like a cracker.

“As slaves, we had no yeast with which to bake, and ate only unleavened bread,” she explained. “You keep that one. Don’t let me see it.”

They drank the second cup, and Rivkah turned back to Hassoun.

“Ask the question, Mr. Masri.”

“Why is this night different from all others?” Hassoun read.

Rivkah answered. She told of them how the Israelites had labored in Egypt as the slaves of Pharaoh, and how Moses had gone to him as a brother and asked for his people’s freedom. Pharaoh refused, again and again, and each time God sent a new plague to wrack his kingdom. But it was not until the angel of death had gone through the land and taken each firstborn son of Egypt that Pharaoh had relented. And when he changed his mind and pursued the fleeing Israelites to the Sea of Reeds, God had made the waters rise around him and had drowned him and his army, and left the Israelites safe in the desert on the other side.

It was on this night, four thousand years ago, that the angel of death had passed the Israelites by.

“Amen,” Rivkah said.

They drank thrice more, and ate the remaining courses, one by one. Elena tasted pureed meat, horseradish, almond paste, and egg whites. Rivkah explained them all.

Near the end, she turned to Hassoun one last time.

“If you still have the afikomen, you may eat it if you wish.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you may sell it back to me. Name your price.”

“Anything?” Hassoun asked.

“Within reason.”

“If we are serving together a year from now,” Hassoun said, “invite me to your seder again.”

Rivkah laughed. Elena had wondered what that would sound like, and found it to be sweetly musical. She must have had a wonderful singing voice.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said.

“And bring someone who’s younger than me next time.”

“Done.”

Rivkah took the fragment of bread from him and passed the other pieces around to the others. They ate it, chewing slowly. It was dry, like the communion wafer of Elena’s childhood, and she struggled to swallow it. She felt the urge to take another sip to wet her mouth.

Rivkah bowed her head to say the benediction in English.

“The Lord shall bless and keep you, he shall make his face to shine upon you, and he shall look upon you and give you peace. Amen.”

Elena realized that she had closed her eyes, and opened them. Rivkah spoke once more.

“Next year, in Jerusalem.”

No one seemed quite sure what to say to that.

“I will not be offended if any of you are still hungry. It’s difficult to prepare this meal in freefall, and the courses are not so appetizing, I admit. Feel free to eat more if you wish.”

“Your food and your blessing are more than enough for me, Doctor,” Ikenna said. “You have my sincere thanks for allowing me to participate.”

“It is a mitzvah, Officer,” Rivkah said. “But you are welcome nonetheless.”

“Captain, all. If I may be excused, my next shift will begin in a few hours.”

They nodded, and Ikenna left the room. He had never been one for social occasions, and Elena couldn’t imagine what Rivkah had said to get him to attend at all.

“Well,” Hassoun said, distinctly aware that he was once again alone with two captain-rank officers. “Do you need any help cleaning up?”

“I think I’ll manage, Mr. Masri. Thank you for coming. I greatly appreciate that you would come here today.”

“Hey, everyone has family they’re not proud of,” Hassoun said.

He smiled to the doctor, and nodded his goodbye to Elena before heading for the door.

Elena waited a moment, then dove for the galley. She found what she was looking for quickly—the cabinets were all neatly labeled, doubtless Tehrani’s work—and headed for the door. She waved apologetically to the startled Rivkah.

“Be right back.”

In the compartment outside, Hassoun was just leaning through the far hatchway.

“Mr. Masri.”

He froze, then turned and braced.

“You can close that door.” Hassoun twisted to shut the hatch, and she spoke to his back. “And at ease while you’re at it.”

Hassoun relaxed slightly as he faced her.

“I just wanted to give you this,” Elena said. She pressed a tin of falafel into his hands. He looked down at the food, then up at her, without understanding.

“I’m not quite sure what we just ate. I thought you might like this better,” Elena said.

Hassoun grinned.

“I think one was lamb.”

“What do you mean, you think one was lamb? How do
you
not know?”

“It all tastes the same when it comes out like toothpaste, Cap’n. But like she said, she did her best.”

“She did,” Elena said. “And I’m glad she invited me. It was beautiful. Anyway, enjoy your dessert. I’ll sign for it, don’t worry. It won’t come out of your ration budget.”

“Thanks, Cap’n. Do you think you could grab me some baklava while you’re at it?”

“Get out of here.”

Hassoun smiled, and turned to pull himself through the hatchway. Elena leaned over and spoke to him through the open door.

“One more thing?”

“Cap’n?”

“I want your analysis of that plasma bolt ready for me at 0600 tomorrow.”

Hassoun grinned. He raised his falafel in acknowledgment.

“Thanks, Cap’n.”

The bulkhead closed between them.

Rivkah was cleaning up as she returned.

“How did Mr. Masri like the gift?”

“How did you know I was talking to Hassoun?”

“Lucky guess.”

She must have seen that Elena had been carrying falafel—it wasn’t exactly a traditional dish where Ikenna came from.

“You don’t need to do that,” Rivkah said as Elena began stacking the dishes.

“Are you giving orders on my ship now? That’s mutiny, you know.”

“Oh? And how do we deal with mutineers?”

“In the old days, they were hanged,” Elena said, placing the dishes inside the washer and locking it. They’d be vacuum-blasted clean, and special filters would separate the detritus and send it to the recyclers. “I guess we’ll have to toss you out of an airlock.”