by Thorne Moore
‘Shut up, Merrit. I know you served as hospital orderly in prison. You may be a complete waste of space in other spheres but you’re all we’ve got. Do your best for him or I’ll cut your throat.’
‘All right!’ Merrit gulped and stepped up to the bed. He took a deep breath, and tentatively tested Tucker’s pulse. He winced and felt Tucker’s forehead. ‘Okay.’ He dried sweat-soaked fingers on his sleeve. ‘I’ll try.’
Tod pulled Yasmin out after him and pushed the master key into her hand. ‘Go and let the others out of their cabins. Not David! The others. Then see if the major needs help.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’m going down to D-Deck. We’ve got to get the lateral reconnected. We’re flying helpless till it is. Even damaged, it will allow us some control.’
The heavy engineering chamber on D-Deck was an echoing cavern, designed to hold the most cumbersome machinery, manipulated by robotic control. Tod stood in the control room, looking down on the massive port-side lateral thruster, as it lay in a cradle for examination, the beam of the scanner still crawling backwards and forwards along its buckled length. One end had been removed, like a lid from a toffee jar, and lay in a separate cradle, its entrails spread out like...
Tod leaned forward on the control panel and closed his eyes. Then he cursed softly. There was no point pushing the lateral back out into its anchorage in the state it was. He’d have to get it together again. He looked at the damage analysis on the screen. It seemed that Tucker had managed to do no more than work the thing apart before he’d been attacked.
Tucker wasn’t the only engineer on the ship. Angrily, Tod went out into the passage. ‘Mich!’
There was silence. ‘Mich, you little shit! Just for once, be of use!’ He threw open the nearest doors, in a vain hope of finding Tucker’s lieutenant sleeping off his drugged daze in some corner, but he already knew the effort was futile. He’d have to manage on his own.
Tucker had been in workshop 4. The micro-repair unit. He strode to it, looking for parts, tools, charts, whatever it was that Tucker had been doing. He shifted the fallen cabinet to one side, stepping over the pool of congealing blood and looked around the workshop.
A small chip lay in the repair unit. What the hell was wrong with it? Tod peered at it through the lenses. There was a crack. Right. He opened the tool cupboard.
Bloody and crazed, Mich stared out at him from one of the shelves.
Chapter 23
‘You locked his door?’ asked Addo.
‘Yes,’ said Selden. Between them, but mostly by Selden’s efforts, they’d carried the still tranquillised Siegfried back to his own cabin where he could do no damage if he woke suddenly.
Flight Control was quiet. Addo remained at the controls, a subdued Smith was sitting at the Ultima and the others stood around out of harm’s way, waiting for explanations that no one was giving.
‘I could do with a drink,’ said Addo.
Abigail and Clytemnestra almost tripped over each other in their haste to get to the galley. It was a matter of doing something, anything. Clytemnestra got there first.
Abigail’s protest died on her lips. Pieces of a broken glass pot were still scattered on the floor. All she could see was Tim, shaking as he tried to concentrate on making coffee, and she still had no idea how to do it. She had no idea how to do anything. She felt ready to weep with frustration at her inadequacy, her inability to take control of any part of her situation. All she could do was watch the others act and react.
‘You need to rest,’ said Yasmin to Addo. ‘How long have you been at the controls?’
Addo raised an eyebrow as he glanced at his watch. ‘Twenty-seven hours and thirteen minutes. Don’t worry, I’ve done forty hour stretches before now.’
‘Yes, but you won’t—’
Tod’s voice cut through. ‘Major.’
‘Here,’ said Addo promptly.
‘Who’ve you got there?’
‘All of them, just about. How’s it—’
‘Is Selden there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Send him down.’
‘I’m on my way,’ said Selden.
‘Wait,’ said Abigail, stepping forward. ‘I’ll come too.’
They looked at her.
‘I might be of use.’
Selden said nothing. Her suggestion wasn’t even worth a response.
She rode down in the elevator with him in silence. Maybe she could do nothing, but she couldn’t bear to stand around watching any longer.
Tod was waiting at the bottom, leaning against the wall. It took a moment to realise that the pad of cloth he was holding was dripping crimson. An improvised tourniquet round his arm hadn’t stopped the bleeding altogether.
‘Come!’ Without explanation, he led them towards the workshops. Abigail followed, the hairs on her neck prickling. The place was cold and there was a stench she couldn’t identify, but it made her hold her breath. Tod kicked open a door and pointed, beyond wrecked cupboards and scattered papers and spatters of blood, to an electronics repair unit. ‘It’s a simple fix. I can’t hold it.’
Selden didn’t waste time on commiseration. He looked, picked up the right tool, and sat down to finish the job.
Abigail stood staring at Tod’s arm. She should offer to tend to it. She didn’t know how. She wasn’t sure that she could bring herself even to touch it. She had the consolation of knowing that Tod didn’t expect it of her. No one expected anything of her. They ignored her.
‘What happened?’ asked Selden, examining the repair.
Tod shrugged and hissed with pain. ‘Mich. Come on. Bring that.’ He led the way to the heavy engineering chamber, indicating the readings in the control room. He hovered over keys, uncertain which hand to use. The right was occupied staunching the blood, the left wasn’t functioning properly. ‘You see. These are the charts. As far as I can see, he’d got as far as dismantling it, but hadn’t carried out any repairs. Tucker’s a fast worker. It will take me hours to do what he’d have done in thirty minutes. I can’t risk it. We’ll just have to bundle it back together and get it in place, to allow us minimum steerage. The repairs will have to wait till we reach dock.’
Selden bent over the charts, flicking through. ‘You’re not going to do anything like that. You’d better leave it with me. Go back up and get that dressed.’
‘You can’t manage it on your own. The GMT will do most of the work but it’s still a two-man job.’
‘She’ll have to be the second man,’ said Selden, motioning over his shoulder towards Abigail.
Tod looked at her, his options limited. ‘Do what he says,’ he ordered. ‘Make the best of it. I’ll get back here as soon as I can.’
Abigail clenched her teeth, and stared at the cavern, its harsh lights, gantries and massive machinery alien and completely meaningless. Never in her life had she dreamed of working in an environment remotely like this.
Selden was weighing her up, on the point of dismissing her as useless.
‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Abigail.
‘Put this on.’ He flung a set of white overalls at her. ‘We don’t want to risk contamination.’ He held up what looked like a dinosaur’s tooth extractor. ‘Do you know how to use one of these?’
She overcame her revulsion and took it. Her wrists nearly snapped with the strain. ‘I don’t even know what it is.’
His lip curled.
‘You’d better teach me then, hadn’t you?’
Tod’s reappearance in Flight Control created a commendable lack of panic. Clytemnestra was in the galley, busy laying out dishes of NDP fare, so she didn’t see him emerge. Smith saw, but he’d detached some vital response mechanism. Addo saw, allowed a flicker of concern to shade his face, then turned back to his controls, leaving Yasmin to take charge of the emergency.
She turned pale but tried to prise the blood-soaked pad from Tod’s hand. He resisted.
‘Stop playing the bloody stoic,’ she said.
‘Sit down and let me see.’
There was a twitch of a half-hearted smile, on Tod’s lips but not in his eyes, as he released his grip. She pulled back the torn sleeve.
‘Would it gratify you to know that it hurts?’
‘Yes, it’s immensely gratifying. God, it’s a mess.’
‘I think it’s going to need more that a bandage and TLC.’
‘Well, I haven’t got either to offer.’ She looked up. ‘Nessy, go to the infirmary and see if Merrit can come.’
‘What?’ Clytemnestra emerged, saw Tod and pulled a face as if she’d just trodden in a dog turd.
‘I’ll go to the infirmary,’ said Tod, standing up.
Yasmin pushed him down again. ‘There’s only one bed in there and it’s occupied. Clytemnestra, tell Merrit to come here if he can.’
Clytemnestra always responded well to a precise task.
Smith came out and looked at Tod’s arm. A jagged cut slashed across the shoulder and down the back of the arm. It was the lower part of the wound that looked particularly gruesome. Splinters of glass were visible. Smith grimaced. ‘Is that tourniquet a wise idea?’
‘I’ve loosened it once or twice,’ said Tod, trying his fingers. ‘I thought he might have sliced through an artery.’
‘Mich?’ asked Addo calmly.
‘Yes. Finally went over the edge. He must have found Tim. Or David. I don’t know which of them did for Tucker. It could have been Mich. Completely unhinged. Went for me with broken glass before I knew what was happening.’
‘What did you do with him?’
‘I wasn’t in a position to do anything. He ran off.’
‘Is he on the loose down there?’ asked Yasmin. ‘Did you warn the others?’
‘No need. He ran into the reactor. I couldn’t stop him.’
‘Oh,’ said Addo.
‘We’re doing well,’ said Tod. ‘Five down, in a six-man crew. One more and we might be in real trouble.’
Merrit came in, looking diffident, almost shame-faced. Yasmin beckoned him over.
‘He’s got a badly cut arm.’
Merrit looked at the jagged wound.
‘Can you do anything with it?’ asked Tod brusquely.
Merrit hesitated. ‘I could try to stitch it up. There’s a clotting agent. Pain killers.’
‘I need to stay alert.’
‘There are some that won’t make you drowsy.’ Merrit looked around. The annexe with the bed was empty. ‘Best go in there. I’ll fetch what I need.’
‘How is Tucker?’
Merrit hesitated, uncertain whether his life depended on the answer.
‘How is he?’ repeated Tod.
‘Not good.’
Tod nodded and let Merrit go.
‘Do as the doctor told you,’ said Yasmin. ‘In there.’ She nodded to the bed.
‘I don’t need to lie down.’
‘I don’t want you bleeding all over Flight Control,’ said Addo. ‘You’re making the floor slippery.’
‘You want me to help you?’ offered Yasmin.
Tod rose to his feet and walked, almost steadily, into the annexe.
Merrit returned with a tray of dressings, medication, needles and suture thread. He shook as he approached Tod.
‘I don’t intend to eat you if you mess it up,’ said Tod. ‘Just try not to.’
Merrit nodded and finished ripping away the sleeve. ‘I’ll have to clean it first. There’s glass in it. Do you want these?’ He offered Tod a couple of pills, and set to work, ducking to avoid a spurt of blood. Tod sat resolutely, with set jaw, as Merrit removed the shards of glass, cauterised the wound and got to work with a needle.
‘You are allowed to swear on such occasions,’ said Yasmin.
‘I haven’t got the time,’ said Tod. ‘Once I started, I’d never stop.’ He glanced over his shoulder at Merrit. ‘What is your verdict on Tucker? Is there a chance he’ll pull through?’
Merrit concentrated on his work. ‘I’m not a doctor.’
Tod squinted round at the stitches. ‘You’re a better one than Siegfried. I’m asking for your opinion. Will he live?’
‘I don’t think I can do anything. I know he’s got internal injuries but no irreparable organ damage. Spleen’s intact. But the head wound...’ He shook his head. ‘That’s bad. I can’t do anything. He needs proper surgery.’
‘Which we can’t give.’
‘No.’
‘You wouldn’t want to attempt anything?’
Merrit went white. ‘Look, I don’t know anything about surgery! Before this I’d done one stitch, under supervision. There is no way – Christ, I’d kill him if I so much as touched him.’
‘But you say he’s going to die anyway.’
‘Without proper medical help, yes I think so.’
‘How long do you think he’ll last?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘A week? Ten days? We might make it to S30 in that time. There’s a surgical unit of sorts there.’
Merrit bit his lip. ‘I don’t think he’d last a week. I’m not even sure that he’ll last an hour.’
Tod said nothing.
‘Honestly, I really can’t—’
‘Since I asked for your opinion, I’d better take it.’ Tod let Merrit get on with his dressing, then he pulled the torn bloody sleeve back together over the bandage and tried the fingers of his left hand. ‘Good.’
‘I wouldn’t do anything with it if you don’t have to,’ said Merrit. ‘You ought to have it in a sling.’
Tod laughed mirthlessly. ‘No.’ He stepped back into Flight Control and checked the screens. All was quiet. He looked down at Addo’s controls. ‘You heard that, about Tucker?’
‘Yes,’ said Addo.
‘You have any thoughts?’
Addo looked up at Tod. ‘Your decision.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Merrit said he might not last an hour.’
‘You suggest we wait and see?’
Addo paused a second. ‘Yes. Just a few hours. Anything else we might do is going to take a lot longer than that.’
‘Yes. First, we get the port lateral back in place. We can’t do anything until we’ve done that.’
‘It would help.’
‘Right, I’ll see to it.’
‘If you’re going back down, I’ll come with you,’ said Yasmin. ‘You can’t do anything useful with that arm.’
‘No. Stay. You’re probably more useful here. I’ll see if Selden is managing. If there are problems, I’ll call you.’
‘You can call Selden from here.’
‘I know.’ Tod was rummaging in one of the side stores. ‘If he’s coping, there’s something else I have to do.’
‘Can’t it wait?’
He emerged with a body bag. ‘No,’ he said.
It was a question, Abigail realised, of interpreting what Selden meant by his various nods, scowls and silent gestures. Not so much a matter of engineering as of telepathy. After half an hour of misunderstanding everything, she was beginning to see that there was method in what he was doing. The muddle of wires, electronics, nuts, bolts and pins on which he was working didn’t suddenly acquire an intelligible pattern, but they began to make a little sense. She could see where he was going. Finally, she surprised him by having the next tool ready. It surprised her even more.
He didn’t express any gratitude, but he did start breaking the silence with monosyllabic demands. His reticence was a relief. A part of her wanted to talk urgently, to spill out the terrors, griefs and fury that were pacing like wild animals inside her, but she knew, if she did speak, her thoughts would be strangled by her own arrogant disdain. Long practice had become a habit that couldn’t be broken. Better to wait, in silence, until she could work out what exactly it was she wanted to say. Better to concentrate all her thoughts on the job in hand and blot out the shadows.
One shadow couldn’t be blotted out. It fell, dark, across the workbench. Selden looked up and Abigail turned,
heart thumping.
Tod was standing there, watching their work. ‘You’re doing repairs.’
‘Some,’ said Selden, getting back to his work.
‘I want it reassembled. The repairs can wait.’
‘This won’t take long. I’ve worked on these before. If we don’t get this mess sorted, you might as well not bother putting her out again. You’ll get a totally unpredictable response.’
‘How long.’
‘Thirty minutes. No more.’
Tod nodded. ‘You can manage for now?’
‘We can manage,’ said Selden.
Tod stepped back. As an afterthought, he looked at Abigail. It was too bleak a look to be interpreted as thanks, or encouragement, but it recognised her existence. She hesitated for a moment, wondering what to say in acknowledgement, then she realised only one acknowledgement was appropriate. She went back to work.
Tod elbowed his cabin door open, nudged it shut behind him, then looked round.
‘Yasmin.’
She was sitting on his bed, waiting. ‘I came to…’ She stopped. ‘Dear God. That’s not your blood, is it?’
He looked down at the gore drenching his clothes and drew a deep breath. ‘No. Not mine.’
‘That means you’ve dealt with – everything.’
‘Yes, I’ve dealt with Tim. Shovelled, scooped, scraped, dredged, mopped, sealed and disposed.’ He began to peel the clothes off, bundling them into a laundry bag, before making sure his bandage was secure. ‘If you’re hoping for anything physical, you’re out of luck. Unless you want to make all the running. Watch me take a shower; that’s the best I can offer at the moment.’
‘Don’t. Don’t joke.’
‘No. I shouldn’t, should I? Any other motive for your visit?’ He switched the shower on and stepped under it. ‘Come to remind me that when it comes to killing friends, you and I are just about matched? Since I did such an excellent job shepherding Tim Faber over the threshold of manhood. Of course, our responses are a little different. I clean up, and you retreat into vodka and self-pity.’
‘That’s right.’ She watched the water run crimson, then pink, then finally clear. ‘If it helps to beat me up, carry on.’