One's Aspect to the Sun

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  This Amadoro woman must feel very confident if she was dragging my brother Lanar into it. Lanar had the pull of the Nearspace Protectorate behind him, and the Protectorate had very clearly told PrimeCorp years ago to stop bothering him. Maybe Sedmamin hadn't warned her about that. Or maybe this sudden turnaround had something to do with the “changes” Sedmamin had hinted at in his conversation with me. I'd send Lanar a message as soon as I finished pacing, to see if he'd heard from anyone at PrimeCorp, and ask if we could meet up to discuss things. Between my unpredictable travels and his patrol duties it wouldn't be easy, but maybe we could manage it.

  After traversing the length of the hall a few more times, I'd decided that was all I would do. I wasn't going to contact the PrimeCorp Division on Renata and tell them anything whatsoever. If this were another bluff, I'd call it, and if it were something else, I'd deal with it when the time came. I'd send Lanar's message, and then I had a meeting with my crew, and Hirin to worry about. Everything else would have to wait.

  The capital city of South Colony, Serous, had a spaceport widely known for its hospitality. I got some curious looks when I told the crew we were having a meeting before any of them left the Tane Ikai for shopping, drinking, or any other planetside pleasures.

  “This had better be important,” I heard Baden grumble as they filed into the galley.

  I'd confided in Rei some of what I was going to say to them all, and she shot him a look that he must have read pretty well, because his eyebrows raised and he looked suddenly more alert. Dr. Ndasa had left for a meeting with his friend from one of the Universities, with my blessings to stay away until suppertime. I had already helped Hirin down to the galley and settled him in one of the two big armchairs that flanked one end of the room. Maja perched on the arm beside him, not meeting my eyes. The others took the chairs around the big table.

  “We have about an hour before the first cargo is due to be unloaded,” I said without preamble, “and I have a few things to explain that are going to take a little while. So I'm just going to jump right in and you'll figure it out as we go along.”

  They were a pretty solemn bunch right then, and I wondered what they thought I was going to dump on them. If the situation had been less serious, I would have laughed.

  I started with a brief synopsis about my mother, how she'd worked for PrimeCorp when I was a child and that her focus had been in longevity research. I could tell they were wondering what that had to do with anything, so I dropped the first bombshell.

  “I suspect, but have nothing but my own observations as evidence, that her work is responsible for a curious fact about me. I'm going to tell you my actual age. Most women don't hide it anymore, I know, but I have good reasons to do so. I'll be eighty-five on my next birthday.”

  Baden snorted a laugh, then fell silent. Looks and mutters of disbelief made their way around the table and I kept quiet to let it sink in. Three pairs of eyes stared at me like they never had before, and I knew they were taking in every detail of my appearance in a very different context.

  “Okej,” Viss drawled. “The last fifty years or so have been mighty good to you, Captain. And you think your mother's anti-aging research when you were a child had something to do with it.”

  I nodded. “My brother Lanar is the same way. It would make sense.”

  “How old is your brother, Captain?” Yuskeya asked sharply.

  “He's eighty. But you wouldn't know it to look at him.”

  “And that's why PrimeCorp is always dogging you? Because your mother stiffed them over half a century ago?” Baden asked incredulously. “Hola, do they have long memories.”

  “Well, it's more than just that, Baden. Don't forget the disaster with Nicadico Corp and Longate. They have Vigor-Us, but PrimeCorp would love to be the company that comes out with a treatment like Longate—a version that doesn't kill everyone who uses it.”

  “Yeah, that would be a definite improvement,” Viss said.

  “PrimeCorp seems to think that some of my mother's research into that sort of treatment is still floating around in Nearspace. To be precise, in me.”

  “Do you think they're right?” Yuskeya asked.

  I shrugged. “Quite possibly. It's the only thing I can come up with that would explain why I seem to be virtually immune to disease, toxins, aging, everything negative that affects the body.”

  “The thing my virus program couldn't quite identify?” Baden asked.

  I nodded. “I think so.”

  “So why are you telling us now?” Yuskeya asked. “I can understand your keeping it a secret for so long, but what's changed?”

  “That would be me,” said Hirin, his voice still raspy and soft since the heart attack.

  “Bombshell number two.” I crossed to Hirin's chair and settled on the other armrest. “Hirin and I have been married for sixty years, and Maja is our daughter.”

  “Unfortunately, I don't share my wife's immunities, as is too painfully obvious,” Hirin added. Maja said nothing.

  “I knew it!” Baden gave one bark of laughter. “I thought it was one of those May-December things, but I knew it. Hirin, I confess to you now that I did my best to seduce your wife when I first came on board the Tane Ikai, but she resisted with ego-smashing ease.”

  Maja remained stony-faced, but Hirin smiled. “I can't blame anyone for trying to seduce her,” he said. “She's easily the best-looking octogenarian I've ever seen.”

  Baden laughed again.

  “I still don't—”

  “I know, Yuskeya. Here's the part where it all comes together.” I got up again, walked over to the counter and drew off a double caff. “On the chance that whatever's in my system would help Hirin recover from the virus, even slightly, we want you to give him a transfusion, from me. We have to make the last skip to Kiando in a week and a half, through a brand-new wormhole, and it may not have been just the Split that made the virus and Hirin's heart go berserk.”

  She frowned. “But a transfusion! When you don't know anything about what might or might not be in your blood? That seems so risky. What if—”

  “Sorry to keep interrupting you, but we've been through all the 'what ifs,'” I said. “Hirin's willing to take the chance and so am I, but it's too difficult to keep it secret any longer, at least from all of you. If things happen as a result, we can't keep trying to hide the facts. I'm tired of it, and we need your help to do this.”

  “What about Dr. Ndasa?” Viss asked.

  I shook my head. “I'm not willing to share with anyone outside this room yet, and I might never be. I have to trust you all to help me keep the truth hidden from everyone else. It would just be easier if we were in this together.”

  “Count on me,” Viss said easily. “The whole thing's so damned interesting that I'd be willing to keep my mouth shut just to know what's going to happen next.”

  “Me, too,” said Baden. “If you don't tell anyone I came on to a little old lady. My reputation would be shot.”

  Rei punched him in the shoulder. Not gently, either. He winced.

  “I'll attempt the transfusion,” Yuskeya said. “But how are we going to keep it secret from Dr. Ndasa? That won't be easy.”

  “We'll do it now, while he's off the ship.” I took Hirin's hand. His skin felt cool and wrinkled as a withered leaf. “If Hirin gets better, he'll put off any more of Dr. Ndasa's tests on the grounds that he's just happy to be recovered, and doesn't feel like any more medical stuff right now. If he doesn't—”

  “He knows how sick I am,” Hirin finished for me. “It wouldn't be that surprising if I were to die. Just don't let him do an autopsy,” he said with a chuckle. It caught in his throat and he coughed, clutching my hand harder with each spasm. Just like back on Earth, I thought. Oh, this has to work.

  “One more thing,” I said.

  “Dio! There's more?” Baden widened his eyes in mock surprise.

  “Yep. The researcher Dr. Ndasa is going to Kiando to meet? One of the reasons I wanted to tak
e him there is that I'm hoping she might turn out to be my mother.”

  Maja shook her head impatiently, but no-one else seemed to notice.

  “Your mother? Wait a second, Luta, she'd have to be—”

  “I know, I know. Don't bother doing the math. If she's alive today, she's almost one hundred and thirty. But—I suspect she doesn't look it.”

  Viss nodded. “You think she experimented on herself, too?”

  I shrugged. “I haven't seen her since I was fourteen, but I do remember her and what she was like, and I can tell you one thing: she'd never have used anything on us that she didn't use first on herself.”

  “Well, the clock is ticking, folks,” Yuskeya said, getting up from the table. “I'll go get some things ready. Fifteen minutes?”

  I caught Hirin's eye and he nodded unwaveringly. “Fifteen minutes,” I told Yuskeya, “will be perfekta.”

  I gave Viss, Rei and Baden all the information they might need to see to the unloading of the cargo and told them they were free to take a break in Serous as soon as that was complete. Hirin and I made our way slowly down the length of the ship to the First Aid station, pausing to peek out the front viewscreen at the spaceport. It bustled with humans and Vilisians, some of the humans from the various worlds exhibiting such cultural diversity that they might have been other aliens. We shared a glance, remembering how exciting it used to be to visit a new spaceport for the first time, years ago on those early trade skips.

  In the First Aid station, Yuskeya was fidgeting around, creating a pile of datameds and other instruments on the cot.

  “What are you doing?” I asked when we entered, Hirin leaning heavily on my arm. “I thought Hirin would have to lie down there.”

  She shook her head. “We should just do it in Hirin's cabin,” she explained. “I'm sorry I didn't think to tell you that. There's no room here for both of you to get comfortable—wait a second.” She stopped what she was doing and stood with her hands on her hips. “There isn't really room in his cabin, either. We'll have to do it in yours, Captain, unless you want to use the galley.”

  “No, if Dr. Ndasa comes back early I'd rather not be out in plain view. My quarters are fine. We'll start back.”

  Hirin and I headed back down the corridor. “I'm getting my exercise for the day, anyway,” he joked. His feet shuffled hollowly on the metal decking.

  “You take the bed,” I directed once we were in my quarters, “and I'll sit in the armchair. I'll just push it over as close as it needs to be. Is it cold in here?” My hands felt icy.

  Hirin shook his head. “I don't think so. I think it's just nerves.”

  “Maybe so. I hope this works.”

  “Me, too. Now that they all know we're married, I could be spending every night in your room.”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “Men. They never change.”

  Maja came in then and wordlessly sat on the floor with her back against the wall. She radiated anger, but maybe it was conflicting with the guilt she felt about conspiring with Amadoro against me. Hirin smiled at her and got a half-hearted response.

  Yuskeya bustled in with an armload of supplies. “Get comfy, folks.”

  “What is all this stuff? I pictured a couple of needles and some kind of tube to connect us. Isn't that how they used to do it?”

  Yuskeya gave me a look. “Let's just say I'm not taking any chances. I've never done this before, remember. Person to person transfusions were never common, and since the development of artificial blood, we don't even have to collect it and store it very much anymore. I've had to improvise.”

  She held up what looked like a datamed with bioplastic tubing protruding from each side. “This is what will connect you. I'll set you both up with transcutaneous diverters and then attach the bioplas tubes. I'll use the gadget in the middle first to make sure your blood is compatible—”

  “We have the same blood type,” I interjected.

  “Yes, well, I still have to do a crossmatch, if you don't mind,” she said mildly. “I'm the medic here. Regardless of—and because of—those extra-special additives that might be floating around in you, I want to make sure that your blood isn’t going to cause any adverse reaction in Hirin. I’m sure you don’t want to kill him instead of saving him.”

  I gulped. “No, of course not. How long will it take?”

  “Only a couple of minutes, with this.” She held out the gadget she’d indicated and I pressed my finger on a soft, clear pad. I felt the slightest prick as it took a sample. She did the same thing with Hirin.

  “We’re lucky. This part used to take about an hour before we’d have a result,” she said as she studied the screen, reading the output. Then she looked up with a smile. “Everything looks good.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. I hadn’t realized my entire plan could have failed before we’d even begun.

  Yuskeya set the datamed down on the night table. “Now this will regulate the blood flow so that we have a nice smooth transition.” She held up another one. “Hirin, I'll connect you up to this one, too. It'll monitor your blood pressure to make sure we're not adding too much too fast. How much do you want to transfer?”

  I hadn't thought about it. “Maybe half a litre or so? Does that sound right?”

  Maja opened her mouth, then clamped it shut without speaking.

  Yuskeya shrugged. “What's 'right'? Nobody's ever done this before, or at least not for the same reasons. You're the one who said this was all theory.”

  “It is. Well, let's try half a litre and see what happens. I guess what I meant by 'right' was, can I lose that much and Hirin gain that much without any other physiological problems?”

  “Probably. That's why I'm monitoring his blood pressure and other vitals. Just to be sure.”

  “Okay. Let's do it.”

  After all the talking and Yuskeya's fussing and puttering around were finished, the actual transfer took about forty-five minutes. “In the old days it would have been a little faster,” Yuskeya said, keeping an eye on Hirin's readings in the datamed, “but I would have had to actually pierce your vein with a needle. Transcutaneous is slower, but less painful and intrusive. And I didn't want to put too much of a strain on Hirin's pressure.”

  Truthfully, I hardly felt a thing, just the pressure on my arm where Yuskeya had taped the transcutaneous extractor, and the pangs of worry that it wouldn't work. Next to those, a little physical discomfort was nothing.

  Yuskeya checked our vital signs periodically during the procedure and again when the process was through, fetched us glasses of chilled fruit juice from the galley, and suggested that we simply rest for a little while before trying to go anywhere else on board. She and Maja looked after cleaning everything up despite my protestations that I would help.

  Maja said, “I'll check on you later,” as she went out the door. I couldn't tell if she was speaking to just Hirin or both of us, but she shot me an appraising glance that I couldn't really interpret.

  As Yuskeya was leaving, she paused. “Feel better,” she said with a smile from the doorway. “Both of you.”

  Hirin looked over at me. “I wonder what will happen now?”

  I took a deep breath. “I don't know. We'll just have to wait and see.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Luta,” he said quietly. “I know it hasn't been easy—”

  “Shhh.” I stood hesitantly and walked, just a little wobbly, the couple of steps to the bed and lay down beside him. He wriggled over to make room. “It hasn't been easy for either of us. But we've always done our best. It's worked so far. Well, except with Maja, I guess.”

  He put an arm around me and closed his eyes. “That it has. And Maja will be all right. We'll just have to trust that things will work out, one more time.”

  We both slept then, not knowing what forces worked inside us, but content in the knowledge that it was one more thing we shared.

  The next few days left me wondering if we'd made a terrible mistake. Hirin ran a fever th
at soared well over a hundred and stayed there for two days, despite the meds Yuskeya gave him every few hours. He was delirious some of that time, his mind wandering the pathways of the near and distant past. He talked to Karro and Maja as if they were present and young children again, assured me that we'd keep looking for my mother for as long as it took, and recited data on skip runs we'd made long ago. We had to invent excuses to keep Dr. Ndasa away, for fear of both what Hirin might say and the medical tests the doctor might want to perform.

  I spent as much time in Hirin's room as I dared risk without arousing Dr. Ndasa's curiosity. Maja was there almost constantly and seemed to be getting a head start on her vow never to speak to me again. We spoke about as much as strangers on a gravlift. Yuskeya helped run interference with Dr. Ndasa by explaining that Hirin was feeling down about his condition and had requested some time to spend alone with his daughter and me, his only family on the ship.

  She told me later that Dr. Ndasa had asked, “What is the relationship between Hirin and the Captain? I've never asked.”

  “I told him you were a niece or something,” she told me. “Was that all right?”

  “Sure. Just as long as I can remember to tell the same story if he asks me, too.”

  Four days after the transfusion Hirin's fever was suddenly gone, and he was awake and demanding some “real” food. Three more days and he was out of bed and back to normal. I was so relieved I felt almost ready to forgive Maja for her pact with Dores Amadoro, and that she might be ready to relent a little toward me, too. In fact, she didn't seem so angry, just quiet and aloof.

  “I can't believe how he's improved,” Dr. Ndasa said one morning as we sat having breakfast in the galley. Hirin had just come in and was digging in the cooler for something interesting.

  I sighed. “It's a great relief, I'll say that. Thank you for all you've done, Doctor.”

  Dr. Ndasa shook his head. “I don't know that I made much of a difference. He seems to have just fought back on his own. He's a strong man.”