Firmament: Machiavellian

by J. Grace Pennington

  Without knowing exactly why, I drifted down the halls towards sickbay. In the night lighting, my form cast only a bare, fuzzy reflection on the walls.

  I reached the darkened sickbay and turned on the dim lights, which barely allowed me to make out the rows of cots. If Napoleon had lied, then one of the members of the science station was actually a doctor, or had been at some point. The four who hadn’t been treated for warp stomach were Napoleon himself, Doctor Pearson, Lee, and one other Copernicus member. Chances were, the other man was the one I was looking for. It made sense that someone asked to inject the higher-ranking members would want to inject himself as well. Where Lee came into this, I had no idea.

  Not that I knew anything for sure, I reminded myself.

  My unease turned to energy as I focused on the task. The medical records of each of the men who’d been treated were in our computers. If I made a note of each of them, then compared my list to the passenger list in the library, that should give me the name of the missing man.

  I grabbed a pad and checked the main computer in the Doctor’s office for the names of each of the warp stomach patients of the day. There were twenty-two of them. Now to head down to the library for a quick comparison.

  The public library was a tiny room, barely four square meters, just down the hall from sickbay. It contained only four consoles, complete with blue latex chairs, and four large flat screens. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with processors, memory storage, and receivers that kept the units synced with the central starship computer complex back on Earth. It adjoined the lab, which was convenient for research.

  At the moment the room was empty, and I took my pad and seated myself at one of the sleek-but-slightly-outdated consoles. The passenger list was public content, and I ran my fingers over the console to access it.

  Captain Felix Holloway headed the list, then Doctor Julian Pearson Ph.D. The rest were in no particular order, as they had no ranks other than Captain on science stations, but I was able to pick out each of the men on my list from sickbay. The other two men who hadn’t gotten sick were Lee Siegfried Trent and Gene Dubois. Neither a “doctor” title nor an “M.D.” was listed with Mr. Dubois’ name, which at first seemed to disprove the Doctor’s suspicions.

  But maybe—

  I clicked on the name and requested the medical record. It required a code, which I knew by heart, and I typed it in.

  I scanned the report, glancing over the blood type and other health matters to check for any record of any kind of medical practice.

  He wasn’t a doctor, but he had been a physician assistant back in the United States, though he hadn’t kept up his credibility since coming to space six years ago. It certainly was possible for a capable PA to provide the vaccination.

  Why would they wish to deceive us about this? If, I reminded again, they had been vaccinated.

  I jerked my head towards the doorway as an idea hit me. There was one way to find out for sure.

  Carefully shutting down the medical record and passenger list, I grabbed my pad and hurried back to sickbay. The lights were still on dim when I reached it, and I replaced the pad and hurried to the recyclator on the other side of the room, praying it hadn’t been dumped yet.

  I pulled the textured metal handle out and peered inside. It was empty.

  Frowning, I stepped back. Then I straightened up. It had been a busy day, maybe I hadn’t emptied all the wasteboxes—

  I jumped the few steps to the cot where I’d treated Napoleon that morning.

  Yes! The tissue he’d used to blot the blood from his chin still lay in solitude in the bottom of the clean, white box. Using only my thumb and forefinger, I removed it from the box and carried it carefully back down the hall towards the lab.

  The serum shouldn’t be entirely washed out of the blood for a few weeks. I just might find a trace.

  The fluorescent lights in the lab were on, and I snapped on some rubber gloves, then used a scalpel to flake some of the dry blood onto a computer slide. I settled myself at one of the lab computers, and inserted the slide.

  I drummed my fingers on the desk as the computer booted up.

  “Dry blood analysis,” I said when it did.

  After the computer processed the request, a neon-blue progress bar appeared on the square screen. It crawled forward, promising to be finished in five minutes and seventeen seconds.

  I leaned back in my chair. If the analysis showed the serum, it would make things a bit confusing. And was it something I needed to report to the Captain? It really didn’t seem like anything particularly problematic. After all, there was no law or regulation against warp stomach vaccinations, and Napoleon hadn’t really lied. Still, it was—

  Footsteps padded just outside the lab and I jumped up, a burst of adrenaline accelerating my heartbeat. I didn’t take the time to analyze my moves. I turned, pressed my back against the screen so the progress bar wouldn’t show, and waited, forcing my tensed muscles to relax.

  Doctor Pearson ducked through the doorway into the light, not seeming to notice me until he was a couple steps into the room. He stared for a moment, then nodded. “Miss Lloyd,” he said.

  “Doctor Pearson,” I said, nodding back.

  Neither of us moved for a moment. I regretted my instinct to hide my research. If I’d just stayed as I was in the first place he probably wouldn’t have suspected a thing. But now it would be suspicious, and if he and Napoleon were hiding anything, that could be a bad position to be in.

  He started forward, and my heartbeat accelerated. But he was walking past me, not towards me, and walked around to the other side of the desk where I sat and settled himself at the computer just opposite mine.

  I breathed out a little too obviously. Daring to turn for a peek at the progress bar, I was both glad and alarmed to see it more than halfway finished. I knew it alerted its completion with an unmistakable “analysis complete,” and would then read off the list of detected elements unless directed otherwise. Sitting down casually, I reached to turn off the sound.

  “Rather late, isn’t it?” he said.

  I looked up. He had neither dictated to the computer nor touched the screen, but just stared at me. Nervous energy sent a little shiver down my arms. “Well, I was a little curious about something my brother and I were discussing earlier.” I winced inwardly, watching the progress bar. It was a harmless lie—and a safe one, since research history was only available to the user, or to the captain and first officer.

  There were approximately fifty seconds left.

  “I see.” He did not ask what, but just continued staring at me with those big blue eyes.

  Forty five-seconds. The one flaw in my lie was that he could see that I also was neither dictating nor touching the screen. His blond eyebrows raised a centimeter.

  I bit my lip and looked at the screen intensely. “It’s—booting up slowly.”

  The eyebrows lowered, further down than they had been before. “It’s taking awhile. Perhaps you should switch computers, or I could look at it for you...”

  “No.” I tried not to sound urgent. “It’s—almost done. I’m curious to hear more about this biodiversity modulator of yours.”

  The eyebrows went back to their normal position. “It’s a biodiversity motivator. It increases rainfall and modulates temperatures, among other things. It won’t make a habitable planet, but it will better living conditions on one already habitable.” His words were measured, as if he were taking care not to use more than were necessary.

  “Ah.” I let my gaze drift back to the screen again. Ten seconds. “Looks like it’s booted up…” I poised my finger over the screen, then pretended to hesitate. “Let’s see, what did I come down here for again? Isn’t that funny,” I laughed silently. “I’ve forgotten.” Four seconds.

  “Perhaps you should make it another time.”

  The words sounded oddly sad coming from him in that leathery voice.

  “Perhaps… oh yes, I remember.” One secon
d. The progress bar disappeared and there was another second before the words “analysis complete” popped up. I touched “OK” a bit too hurriedly. “I’ll just be a moment,” I promised.

  He nodded, but didn’t stop staring.

  My discomfort increasing, I scanned through the list. Red blood count—eosinophils—basophils—platelets—none of this interested me, nor did any of the other counts it gave. They were all in the normal ranges. There was a plasma measurement—a dead microorganism or two...

  Down at the bottom—yes! A microscopic bit of P12 virus-like particles and a smidgeon of antigastroflora. That corresponded to the accelerated serum of the vaccine!

  Thinking quickly, I set the report to print, then instantly shut down the program. I pulled the slide out and stuck it in my pocket just as the printer in the opposite corner began spitting out paper.

  Doctor Pearson was closer to it than I was. He stood up and started towards it. I sprinted, but his legs were far longer than mine, and he reached the printer first.

  My heart beat faster as he lifted the face-down papers while I was still a meter from him.

  He had only to turn the papers over to see that I had been lying.

  Chapter VI

  For an instant, his sad eyes met mine, and my knees turned to jelly. Mesmerized by those extraordinary eyes, I didn’t move.

  He reached out and handed the papers to me, not even glancing down at them.

  “Thank you.” My voice trembled as I grasped them. “I guess I’m pretty tired!” I laughed, hoping he’d accept that as an excuse for my nervous behavior. “I’ll leave you to your research. Goodnight!”

  “Goodnight.” He didn’t turn, look away, or even move.

  I didn’t need encouragement to leave. I turned and walked out, a little too fast, forcing myself not to give into the instinct to look back and see if he was still watching me.

  When I was out of his sight in the halls, I breathed more freely. Success! I still didn’t know how significant my findings were, but it was information, at least. The Doctor would be very interested.

  The nervous adrenaline failed me halfway to the elevator, and a flow of exhaustion seeped through my body. I glanced at my wristcom.

  Twenty-four fifteen.

  I dragged myself back into my quarters and dropped into bed, uniform and all. As I drifted off, I realized I was still holding the printout. I reached sleepily over to lay it on my nightstand, and then fell promptly asleep.

  The alarm on my wristcom didn’t wake me, and the next morning found me stumbling into sickbay an hour late, still blinking at the light.

  “Where’d you put the scopolamine?” the Doctor asked as I entered, not commenting on my tardiness.

  “I gave it to you.”

  He mumbled under his breath and looked through the main cabinet again. “I thought so. I know I put it here.”

  I smiled. Misplacing things again. It was rare enough to not concern me, but common enough to strike me as amusing. “What do you need it for?”

  He slammed the door shut. “I don’t need it right now, I just noticed it wasn’t where it belongs. I might need it later. I’m sure I put it right in its place.”

  “It’ll turn up,” I assured, walking towards him. I reached into my jacket pocket and touched the folded paper there. “Doctor?”

  He turned towards me. “Well?”

  I pulled the papers out of my pocket, unfolded them, and held them out to him. “I analyzed a sample of Captain Holloway’s blood last night.”

  “Why?” He took the report and wandered his gaze over it.

  “Just look at the bottom.”

  I could tell when he saw it by the way his eyebrows raised.

  He looked at me, and his lips were turned up in a wry smile. “Who was right?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “But why would they lie?”

  He folded the papers and put them in his own pocket. “Did you find out who did it, by any chance? Don’t tell me our pleasant Captain Holloway has the dignity of an M.D.”

  I pressed my lips together and crossed my arms. “No sir. Gene Dubois, a former PA. He was the fourth man who didn’t come down.”

  “Lee…” the Doctor muttered, staring absently past me. I watched his face as he remained lost in thought for a moment before snapping back to the present. He looked me in the eyes. “I think we can assume that Doctor Pearson and Dubois were vaccinated, but Lee?”

  He rubbed his chin as he pondered this for another minute, then he spoke sharply. “I want you to take a blood sample from Lee and analyze it. See if you find the same components. I’ll wait until we get the results to ask Trent about it.”

  “Yes sir,” I nodded. “But if Lee asks why we need the blood, what should I tell him?”

  The Doctor shrugged. “I’m sure you can think of something clever.”

  I sighed. He just loved putting me to the test. And I usually liked it. But he might have been a little more appreciative of what I’d done already.

  Just a little.

  By the time I’d finished breakfast, I had decided on my course of action, though I was dubious as to whether it was as clever as the Doctor would have liked. I caught Lee leaving the mess hall and ran up to him.

  “Good morning, Mr. Trent,” I said brightly.

  He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Good morning, Miss Lloyd.”

  I fell into step beside him as he moved into the corridor. “Excuse me… I think someone mentioned that you’d been sick recently? You didn’t come to sickbay yesterday, so I wondered…”

  It was a fairly safe lie, as someone in a contained group usually couldn’t go too long without getting at least a stomachache, especially without a doctor.

  He waved his hand dismissively. “I had a touch of the flu about a week ago, but nothing serious. Thank you for your concern though.”

  I wasn’t going to be pushed off so easily. I took his arm professionally, which seemed to surprise him.

  “I’d just like to do a quick test. It will only take a minute, sir.” I spoke pleasantly, adopting the almost maternal tone I often used with patients. I waited for his reply, hoping I wouldn’t have to exercise my authority as second medical officer—especially since I was pretty sure it didn’t extend to passengers.

  There was one consolation—if there were a conflict, the Captain wasn’t likely to side with his brother. If that could be called a consolation.

  He hesitated, then shrugged and smiled. Even in that slight lift of the shoulders I saw the Captain reflected perfectly. “Lead the way.”

  I led him down the hall to sickbay, which was empty.

  “Sit here,” I ordered, pointing to a cot. “This will only take a moment.”

  He obeyed, and I got the needle ready.

  “How long have you worked on the Copernicus?” I asked casually. If the test turned out negative, I wanted to know how long it had been since he’d traveled at warp.

  “About six months,” he answered readily. He watched as I prepared to take blood. “It’s not much of an assignment—not one member of the team wants my services. But I try.”

  He winced as I punctured his skin. I drew some blood into the syringe carefully.

  “How long have you known Harrison?” he asked, as I laid the tube down and started to clean and repair the wound.

  “Eleven years.”

  He let out a low whistle. “You know him well?”

  “Yes, I would say so.” I glanced up at him with a smile.

  He was silent for a moment, and the click as I detached the tube from the needle sounded loud in the silence. “What’s he like now?” he asked.

  I looked up from where I was monitoring the healing of the small puncture wound. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged again. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in so long, I guess I just kind of wonder if he’s changed.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that,” I said. “You should ask the Doctor.”

  He nodded
, and fell silent again. I hid my discomfort by turning my back to him as I cleaned the needle. His similarity to the Captain made his presence seem very familiar, and yet he was nearly a stranger. He too seemed uncomfortable broaching the subject, and again I was nagged by curiosity about the division between the brothers.

  “It should be healed now,” I said, turning back around. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and stood up. He started to leave, stopped, and turned towards me. “You might not realize this…” he began, “…but Gerard is happy, much happier than when I knew him. I can tell.” There was a strain of wistfulness in his voice that reached his clear eyes. “I’m glad he has someone like you.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. I’m… I’m glad too. I mean, I’m glad he’s happy.”

  He smiled back, then turned and walked out of the room.

  “How did you do it?”

  I turned on my heel. The Doctor stood in the doorway of his office, leaning against the doorframe.

  “Have you been listening this whole time?” I felt my cheeks pink.

  “No. Just the last part. Should I have closed my ears?”

  I smiled and fingered the tube of blood. “Well, is it true?”

  “Is what?”

  “That you’re happier than when he knew you?”

  He cocked his head to one side. “Let me think…”

  I laughed, and stood waiting.

  Nodding with decision, he walked over to me. “Yes.”

  I pecked a kiss on his cheek. “Good. I’ll go test this.”

  “You do that.”

  My heart light, I tripped back to the lab.

  I’d felt certain that the test would be negative, but to my surprise and slight disappointment, there were definite traces of the vaccine in Lee’s blood. Why? It made sense for the heads of the station to have it, but a chaplain who nobody needed?