NanoSymbionts

by Joseph Philbrook

  Since the off duty outfit Linda had been wearing when the pirates attacked was less than ideal in the cold damp conditions they were living under. It wasn't too surprising that she came up with the idea of turning some of the blankets into crude coats. They wouldn't be pretty but they'd be better than bare skin. George donated the spool of thin plastic fiberoptic “wire” he had in his pocket for thread. Yolonda produced a pair of sheers and some kind of craft needle. From some inner pocket of the coat she had actually been wearing when the Captain rescued her.

  “Thank you Yolonda,” Linda had said. “These will do nicely.”

  At this point the captain, who hadn't shown any sign that he was even listening to their conversation, walked over carrying a stack of the heavy blankets. Which had been manufactured as a form of reusable packing material to cushion and wrap delicate cargo, rather than for human use. The fabric was rather course but it would provide a fair amount of insulation. As he set the stack of blankets down in front of Linda, captain Rivermon picked up and examined the sheers.

  “These sheers are unusually heavy for office work Mrs Heroner.” The Captain said in a quiet voice. Then with a pointed glance at the craft needle, he continued. “For that matter, so is that small dagger that's masquerading as a sewing needle... Mind telling me how it is that you happen to have such useful things in your coat?” Then without waiting for an answer, the captain turned towards Linda. “If you can figure out something to trace out a pattern with, I can cut the fabric for you.” Then without pausing for breath, he turned back to Yolonda. “It's your business of course, so if you don't want to tell me you don't really have to. But if you don't mind, I'm thinking that what I'd really like to know is how it is that of every one that was on board the Starskewer. Your the only one who was wearing a coat, when we crashed? Never mind one with such useful things in it's pockets.”

  As he spoke, Linda produced a cosmetic marker designed to make temporary imitation tattoos. With which she began sketching an outline on one of the blankets. She wasn't saying a word but she was definitely listening to the one sided conversation her commanding officer was trying to have with Yolonda.

  “No, I don't mind doing a little explaining captain Rivermon,” Yolonda said with a sigh. “That is on one condition.”

  “Name it fair lady,” he replied with a grin.

  “First you tell me how you know it's ‘Mrs’ rather than ‘Miss’ or that horrendous Ms that some tasteless individuals still think us ladies should use?” Yolonda asked. “I brought nothing of my estranged husband on board. And I'm quite sure that fact wasn't in my passage reservation.”

  “Fair enough,” captain Rivermon replied. “I try not to be surprised by my passengers. One never knows when someone isn't who they claim to be. So I routinely do background checks as soon as I get the initial reservation.”

  “That sounds likely captain,” Yolonda began. “Except that I happen to know that that detail doesn't show up in the available background data on me. In any of the 4,627 background lookup services you could have used. I spent a small fortune purging that data nearly a hundred years ago. When I was sure he wasn't coming back.”

  “Yes, I imagine you did at that,” the captain replied. “But none of them had anything that explained how you got your most excellent credit rating.” The captain turned back to face Linda. “Did you know Miss Trinora that Mrs. Heroner here, enjoys a credit rating higher than the planetary governments of any of the worlds this ship has ever delivered cargo to?” Then without waiting for an answer, he turned back to Yolonda. “That intrigued me so much that I inquired by less legitimate means. Though even my best black market contacts couldn't dig up much on you. All I got was the fact that you had once been married. And that your husband took your name rather than you his. The only other fact they could tell me was his former name. Which I put together with my memory of the corporate shake up that occurred 77 years ago. When the decision was made by my employer, to replace the deathtrap I was serving on with one of several brand new freightliners. I remember that no one seemed to know where we got the resources to pay for them. But now that I've seen your credit rating I've a suspicion you just might have been responsible.”

  “You didn't tell them I was going to be on board did you?” Yolonda asked with a bit of a hard edge in her voice.

  “Of course not,” the captain practically snorted. “I even do my regular background checks under a pseudonym. When it comes to my less legitimate sources I fall back on an alternate persona I created several years ago. When I go out to look them up, my underworld contacts know neither who I am nor what ship I'm from.”

  “In that case,” Yolonda said with obvious relief in her voice. “I won't fire the corporate security chief, for ranking you among our best officers.” Then with a glance around to confirm that none of the other survivors were listening, she continued. “I may as well tell you that I'm the one who selected you for the captain's job on this tub back then. And that over the years you've managed to exceed my expectations for you so many times. That when I decided to begin one long last tour of inhabited space before I eventually cash out, I decided to start my journey as a passenger on the Starskewer. For the express purpose of finally meeting you. I had thought that if you were the man I thought you were, I might just charter the Starskewer for the rest of my tour. But I hadn't counted on those damn pirates.

  Getting back to your questions captain, I knew what kind of trouble we were in the moment their manipulator fields first grabbed our hull. So while I didn't think much of our chances, I thought I'd best grab my traveling coat just in case. And I didn't get it on any too soon. For no sooner did I fasten the first button when all hell broke lose. And I mean that literally captain. I don't know how you expected any of us to survive that distorted warp field. But a few of us did and here we are.”

  The captain reached over to Linda and gently lifted her chin. Until her mouth, that had sort of fallen open as she listened, was once again shut.

  “Actually Mrs...” At which point Yolonda cut him off.

  “Please!” she said in a commanding voice. “Call me Yolonda! I'd really rather that annoying Mr Naville didn't figure out that the owner of the shipping line he's already decided to sue, was within physical reach.”

  “Very well Yolonda.” captain Rivermon replied. “But if I'm going to address you so informally, you better start calling me Wilber or it's going to be hard to explain.” Yolonda grinned.

  “Careful Wilber,” she said. “Some people might think we're rapidly getting rather intimate.”

  At this, the Captain pointedly looked up and down Yolonda's aging, but still firm, figure before replying.

  “One could certainly do worse,” he said. “Getting back to what I was about to say Yolonda, I was only able to engage the warp generator by a bit of sheer luck. I'd been so unhappy with the efficiency of the warp field generator that I'd decided to use the time spent calculating the next fold recalibrating them. Which was only going to save time if I could heat up the control circuits before the generator finished cooling down from the previous fold. So of course, I had already bypassed certain safety override circuits. And no, I didn't actually expect any of us to survive when I engaged the warp field. But I was fairly certain that anyone they decided to let live would soon regret it. And this way, I figured I could maybe take some of the bastards with us.”

  Suddenly a loud incoherent screeching assaulted their ears as the dark form of Mathieu Naville slammed into the captain. Mathieu had started slowly creeping forward after he happened to notice his fellow passengers looking pointedly at him just as the voices he hadn't quite been able to hear fell to even softer tones. Mathieu had only heard a few words of their conversation but it was enough for him to realize that it wasn't actually the pirates who'd unleashed the carnage that had taken his beloved Donelle from him. When he attacked the captain, Mathieu appeared to be having some kind of fit. He was literally frothing at the mouth. As he began pounding, clawing and bitin
g the captain.

  Normally Mathieu wouldn't have stood a chance in a fight with a man as strong as the Captain. As it was however, he had the advantage of not only surprise but all the strength and fury of a madman.

  George was sitting at the other end of the container when he noticed the disturbance. By the time he made it to his feet Mathieu's unnerving screeching began to take the form of recognizable words.

  “You did it!” he screeched as he began slamming the Captains head against the containers floor. “You killed her...”

  That was all he got to say before he suddenly fell unconscious as a loud buzzing sound echoed throughout the container. When George got there he saw that the spinster, was standing over the prone figure of her fellow passenger with what looked like a sonic stun gun in her hand.

  “Quick!” she said with a sudden air of authority. “Wilber needs an immediate emergency strength dose of these anti-trauma biomeds!” As she said this, she produced a package of a very expensive premium version of them. She held it out to George but she didn't stop issuing orders.

  “Prep a triple dose,” she commanded. “While I start dressing those bite wounds.”

  As she said that she grabbed the oversized craft needle back from Linda, and the spool of the fine fiberoptic ‘wire’ that George had given them for the coats. With which she began to stitch closed the hole Mathieu had chewed in the Captains cheek.

  “Please stop staring at your Captains wounds,” she continued. “Prepare the damned biomeds Mr. Agroman. Now!” She fairly screamed that last word, jolting George into action.

  By the time he had a triple strength dose ready to administer to the Captain, the suddenly authoritative old lady was almost finished crudely reattaching the partially shredded muscle tissue that had been hanging from where Mathieu's teeth had torn the Captain's forearm wide open. To the remainder of it, that was thankfully still attached to the cartilage.

  “If you've got those biomeds ready Mr Agroman,” she commanded. “Apply about a tenth of them to each of those eyes. Better put half again as much in his right eye. Mr Naville gouged that one pretty badly. Then spray another tenth on his cheek. And apply about a third of what's left to this muscle tissue. So I can start stitching the skin together. Then you can inject him with the rest of it.” George did as he was told.

  As he applied the biomeds to the Captain's arm, he saw that there was a distinctive piece of jewelry clamping shut one of the Captain's blood vessels. Even so there had been so much bleeding that he wondered how the woman had been able to see to stitch. At least the bleeding was rapidly slowing to a stop as the biomeds became active. He knew there hadn't been any need for the surgery to be overly precise but the closer together the right bits of flesh were held during the first stages of healing, the better the whole process would be.

  When she was done stitching as much of the Captain's skin back together as was possible, Yolonda reached under her skirt and removed an antique inner garment, that George recalled used to be called a slip. This she cut into strips and began using them to bandage the wounds. The bleeding had already stopped but the fabric would help to keep the wound clean until the biomeds finished the job. Suddenly George remembered something.

  “Excuse me Miss Heroner,” he said. “But I think you left something that doesn't belong, inside his arm.”

  “Your right, Mr Agroman,” She replied. “My diamond earring doesn't really belong there. But he'd already lost too much blood and that artery was bleeding so fast the not even the biomeds would have stopped it in time. He's just lucky I wear an odd clip on style of earrings with an adjustable clamp that was just strong enough to pinch that artery shut.

  Don't worry, if we dose him with enough of my premium grade biomeds. Not even the diamond itself will remain by the time their done rebuilding his arm. That package has 9 more doses. I'm charging you with the task of administering them three times a day until you've used the whole package on him. Do you understand me Mr. Agroman?”

  George looked at her with new eyes.

  “I understand that just one dose of that particular brand of ultra hi-grade biomeds costs a lot more than I make in a full galactic standard year Miss Heroner,” George replied. “I understand that the ship's passenger property insurance manifest rated your diamond earrings as a certified antique pair of natural stones, with a history that makes their value as a set greater, than the cost of an entire ship like the Starskewer. I understand that your crazy if you think the captain will ever be able to repay you for it. But yes, I also understand that ‘god’ himself would have a hard time stopping me from giving the rest of these biomeds to my captain. Do you understand me Miss Heroner?”

  By the time he was done talking he was also having a hard time seeing through the tears that he didn't even know were pouring out of his eyes. At this point there was a loud clang. When Yolonda looked up, she saw Randy standing over Mathieu with a dented soup pan in his hand.

  “The bastard started to wake up!” he explained.

  “Please don't hit him anymore Randy,” Yolonda requested.

  “The man is sick with grief for his wife. And I don't want to have to spend any of the captain's medicine on him.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “But if you could help George here, cut a few strips from one of these blankets to tie him up with, I'll feel a lot safer.”

  When the captain regained consciousness he was surprised that his head didn't hurt a lot more than it did. He remembered his head being slammed repeatedly into the deck plating. He also remembered those teeth... He tried to move his right arm to check his face but he discovered it was restrained. Which was probably a good thing because it hurt like hell the moment he started trying to move it. With his left hand he reached up to touch his cheek. It hurt the moment he touched the bandage but he didn't feel anything like the hole he expected to feel. Just to be sure he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Even the slightest contact with his tongue was agonizing, but he had to know how extensive the damage was. The flesh felt a bit spongy and tasted wrong. It also felt like it had been crudely stitched back together with something coarse.

  “Stop that Wilber!” a familiar voice scolded. “If you keep that up your going to tear my patchwork to bits before the biomeds can finish the healing.” By this time Wilber knew why the voice sounded familiar.

  “You sewed me back together Yolonda?” he asked. “I'm impressed. But you said something about biomeds? I know I didn't find any trauma rated packets, when I threw what supplies I could into the containers. But I can feel something a lot stronger than maintenance supplements working on me. Where did...”

  “I kept a small supply of them in my traveling coat,” she interrupted him. “But you need to rest Wilber. With any luck that wind will let up tomorrow or the next day and we can get out of this container before the waves do any more damage. But there's nothing for you to do right now. Except to rest up, so that you'll be strong enough when we get the chance.”

  It was shortly after first light, two days later, that the wind became less fierce. George came back inside and reported on the conditions outside.

  “The wind's let up as much as I think it's going to,” he told everybody. “As luck would have it the tides on it's way out. The water should be low enough for us to get ashore in a couple of subcycles.”

  “Then it's time,” the Captain said. “That I got out of these bandages.” As he said that he started to feel for the edge of his head bandage with his left hand.

  “Wilber Rivermon!” Yolonda scolded him. “What do you think your doing? Your not done healing yet.”

  “Maybe not,” he countered. “But I'm not about to allow someone to carry me as a burden when we make our move. I'll admit I don't think my arm's all healed up yet. But my cheek is doing just fine. I can't find any trace of that fiberoptic wire you used with my tongue anymore. Besides damn it, I need to know if I can see or not. So if you don't want me to claw at these bandages, you better help me get em off.”

>   The captain found that he could in fact see. Albeit less clearly than he would have liked. It didn't take him long to spot the disheveled form of Mathieu Naville. The man was tightly bound at the wrist and ankle with strips of cloth and was further secured by another strip of cloth tethering his arm to what used to be a built in shelving rack. The man looked very sad and was staring at the captain. When he noticed that the Captain was looking back, he spoke up.

  “I'm sorry!” Mathieu said. “I shouldn't have lost control like that. I'll never forgive you for Donelle.” His voice trailed off and his eyes filled with tears but after a moment he continued hoarsely. “But that's no excuse for what I did to you. Especially since, if Miss Heroner is to be believed, what the pirates would have done to her.”

  Again Mathieu's voice trailed off as he succumbed to his tears. Then Yolonda spoke quietly for the captain's benefit.

  “Mr. Naville here, was under the impression,” she said. “That once the pirates learned how wealthy his wife's family was. That they would have ransomed her. He also thought that meant she'd have some chance of being returned to her people. I explained that it only worked that way in the holodramas. That in reality the pirates never let anyone go. That they don't even promise to return their victims. But rather when they decide someone is worth the effort, they repeatedly present their victim's family with proof of a continuous torture. Which they savagely inflict on their victim. Then they offer, for a price, to let their victim escape further suffering by being permitted to die.

  Then I gave him some of the details of what kinds of torture they were known to actually use. Your crew is in favor of tossing the man into the sea for what he did to you. But I convinced them to at least wait till you decided what should be done with him. They don't believe he's actually sorry. Their afraid of what he might do next time he gets upset.”