by David Brin
“Indeed you are.” Saul’s voice carried only a dry hint of irony.
“I hope we can bring him back soon—very soon,” Malenkov said. “Damnation! At the very beginning!”
Virginia said gamely, “We’ll all pull together. Of course, we’ll have to…”
“Pick a new commander,” Saul finished for her. “That’s obvious— Bethany Oakes. She’s next in line.”
Carl nodded reluctantly. Another Ortho. All the senior crew were. And Oakes wasn’t even a spacer.
They watched in silence as Peltier and Samuelson rolled the commander’s body into a sleep slot and opened the valves to feed fluids. The tube fitted snugly into a broad wall of similar nooks, gleaming steel certainly wreathed in gauzy fog. So much like death, yet it was the only hope of life to come. It they could figure out what had killed him. If.
Malenkov sighed. “We should have some ceremony. But there was no time.”
Saul said, “And perhaps it’s not such a good idea to assemble everyone in one place.”
Still numb, Carl thought, Miguel Cruz wouldn’t want a stiff little ritual. Some of us’ll get together and hoist a few for him later. The captain would understand that.
And maybe that might dull the pain, when numbness turned to grief.
“Dispersal, yes.” Malenkov nodded silently, frowning. Carl realized they were still talking about what had killed Cruz and whether it was communicable. “Osborn here can adjust job schedules until we thaw Oakes.”
“I am going back to the lab,” Saul said. “I want a full dress review of the lab results.”
“I think not,” Malenkov said stiffly.
Carl saw that Saul was already half-lost in thought about paths of inquiry to follow, checks to make. Saul did not reply at once, but gazed off into space, toward the slot cap that had closed on Cruz. Then he turned slowly to Malenkov. “Ummm? What?”
“Is your turn, Saul.”
“What?”
“This death makes me more firm.” Malenkov bunched his lips together, whitening them, his jaw muscles set rigidly.
“We risk exposure to you even by this talking.” Malenkov gestured brusquely. “Into a slot.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Saul looked irked, as if Malenkov were pursuing a bad joke. “I can help. Hell, if some of my suspicions are true—”
“You are not so big and essential,” Malenkov said stiffly. “Peltier, she knows the immunology well—”
“I insist—”
“I will not risk you dropping dead, my friend.”
“Nicholas, I don’t have whatever killed Miguel Cruz!”
“Look at you—eyes red, nose running.” Malenkov gestured. “You have something. A microbe caught in your lab, could be.”
Virginia stepped to Saul’s side and felt his brow. “You’re hot,” she said.
Carl watched sourly as she put her hand on Saul’s face with unselfconscious intimacy. He looks damned sick to me. Malenkov may be right.
Virginia asked quietly, “How long have you been this way?”
“Days, off and on,” Saul said dismissively. “A cold, that’s all it is. Some fever.”
Malenkov said, “We cannot be sure.”
“I think it’s just a leftover from Matsudo ’s last damned bio challenge. Which doesn’t mean I’m Typhoid Mary.”
“The commander died in hours,” Malenkov said curtly.
“Not from anything he caught in my lab. He hasn’t even been near it.”
“Could catch it directly from you,” Malenkov said.
“Exactly! Then why am I still alive? Use your head, Nicholas. You need me to help track down his killer!”
“It is to save your own foolish life!” Malenkov shook his fist at Saul, tensing his whole body.
“Saul, you must.” Virginia urged, tightness skittering through her voice. “We can’t let you risk yours—”
“No more!” Malenkov shouted. His bulk made the command imposing. The chamber was of hardened plastaform and cupped the sound into a resonant, rolling boom. “No more!”
I knew he’d start browbeating if he ever got a chance, Carl thought. Let him get away with it now and we’ll be taking orders from him forever. I’ve seen guys like this before.
Part of it, though, was simple resentment over anyone giving orders when his captain was barely cold.
“You’re not commander,” Carl said mildly, suppressing his initial urge to raise his voice. “Life Support comes next in the crew chart, as I remember, and this falls under the category of a space emergency. I’m acting officer.”
All three looked at him with surprise. Scientists—they never look beyond their own fiefdoms.
Malenkov hesitated, glanced at the others, then nodded. “True… for now. Bethany Oakes, we can thaw her soon, however.”
“Go ahead.” Carl shrugged. Then she can play these power games with you and I’ll drop out.
Saul said judiciously, “That seems reasonable.”
Carl could not help but smile sardonically. You bet it is. I just saved your ass from the slots.
“I… agree,” Virginia added, but Carl saw conflicting emotions play across her face. They were so obvious to read. If Saul was slotted she would lose him for a year or two. But if he died…
Virginia and Saw Lintz? Carl was stunned. He couldn’t even think about that, right now.
“We’ve got other problems.” he stammered only briefly as he hurried on. “I came in to report some stuff clogging the filters in Shaft Three. We’d better deal with that, and soon.”
Malenkov said, “I still do not see why Saul—”
“Because we need every hand, that’s why!” Saul erupted.
Malenkov’s face compressed, his cheeks bulging, an adamant set to his jaw. “I do not agree.”
Carl said flatly, “Complain to Oakes.”
Malenkov abruptly jerked open the hatch. “One thing I have authority to do! Saul should keep away from all of us. I will not be in the same room with him any longer.”
Saul began, “Come on, Nick, you—”
“I am still chief of medicine!” Malenkov said angrily. “I log you as quarantined!”
“That’s—”
“No contact! You work in your own lab, alone. Enforce this, Carl Osborn, or I shall speak to Earth of this!” Malenkov pulled through quickly and slammed the hatch after himself. The others looked at each other.
“You know he’s right,” Virginia said angrily.
“Like hell I do. Thanks for stepping in like that,” Saul said to Carl. “I’d forgotten what the line of succession was. Organization charts aren’t my kind of thing.”
Carl shrugged. “I just knew damned well that nobody’d set it up so Malenkov came next.”
Saul chuckled, and Carl smiled on the surface, though underneath he was in turmoil. He wondered whether he had in fact done the smart thing. He didn’t know enough about medicine, of course. He had simply followed his instincts. Years in space had taught him that that wasn’t usually a good idea.
What would the Commander think? He still wasn’t used to the idea yet. I never wanted to be in charge.
Virginia took Saul’s arm, chiding him about being up and about when he should be in bed. Carl felt a sudden pang of jealousy.
“Hey, he’s quarantined now, you know.”
Virginia frowned at him, but Saul nodded. “Carl’s right. I’ll crawl home by myself.”
If I hadn’t opened my mouth, he thought, Saul would be on his way out of our lives right now.
Maybe it hadn’t been so bright to speak up, after all.
On the other hand, Saul didn’t look like he’d last that much longer, anyway. And if they slotted him when he was near death, the fellow wouldn’t be coming back real soon, either.
He blinked as this thought surfaced. What are my real motives here?
It hurt even if he moved his eyes…
Throbbing aches, a muggy dullness filling his head, a dry rasp in his throat. I haven’t been hu
ng over like this since I was twenty. That wild wine-tasting in L.A…
He sat up in total blackness, feeling the rustle of crisp sheets, and it all came back.
The Hawaiian woman, Kewani Langsthan, had come up with a big bottle of fiery coconut brandy to help Carl, Jim Vidor, and Ustinov violate Malenkov’s rule against gatherings, and drink to Captain Cruz’s memory. Whoever heard of Hawaiians holding an Irish wake?
He realized dimly that he had deliberately, stolidly gone about getting drunk. And even as he did, he knew it couldn’t blot out that awful despair, only daub it over.
Sometimes the only way to pay tribute to the dead was by a rousing, gut-busting ceremony of demented excess. About half the crew had reached the same conclusion.
But something else had happened … He tried to remember, failed.
Okay, fine. It was my off-duty time and I used it as I deemed appropriate, as the regs say. I just don’t have much talent for big-time carousing. Now I pay the price.
As if in reply, a lancing ache ran through his stuffy head. He reached out for the light and instead touched a soft thigh.
Oh yes. All at once she had seemed maddeningly attractive, witty, sympathetic …
“Umm?” Lani murmured. “Carl?”
He tried to speak, had to clear his throat. He swallowed painfully and croaked, “Ah, yeah. G’ morning.”
She switched on a dim nightlight, throwing their shadows against the walls of her snug little room. “You… look awful.”
He tried a grin. It felt like a crack had split his face. “Better than I feel.”
Lani’s broad, frowning face seemed none the worse for wear. “Can I get you something?”
“No, I’ll just sweat it out.”
“I have some B-complex and Soberall. They can dampen the effects.”
“Well… okay, let’s see what science can do. He knew the line sounded hollow, but he felt instinctively that he should keep things light. He could only dimly recall how he’d ended up here, what was said. My subconscious has gotten me into trouble again, he thought ruefully.
She flipped the covers aside and glided nude across the room, lithe and unembarrassed. Lani fished in a medical compartment and returned with five pills and a bag of water. He took his time swallowing, trying to figure out how to handle this.
He remembered being suddenly angry with Virginia —that’s what had started it. He’d had some of the deadly mai-tais Langsthan had brewed up and the Saul Lintz came on a screen nearby, just tuning in to see what was going on. Yeah, that must had done it. I’d been making sense until then, but ol’ smug Saul looked skyward and gave us that indulgent look of his and I got damned mad. At him, at Virginia …
“Better?” Lani asked quietly.
“Uh. Marginal.” He lay back on the sheets, dimly aware that he was naked.
She hung in the air over the bed, folded into lotus position, slowly descending. “You should get more sleep.”
“Uh, I…What time is it?”
She smiled slightly, as if she guessed his intentions. “It’s nearly ten.”
“Oh…I’m on watch soon.”
“You have to return to the living first.”
“I’ll… be okay.” Actually, he felt even worse. He couldn’t think straight. He had never been in a situation where he honestly didn’t know whether they had made love or not. Damned unlikely. I’ve never been much good with a skinful in me.
“You’re wondering,” Lani said, the faint smile playing on her lips.
“Ah… yeah.” She was always one move ahead of him.
“Let’s say your motives were pure.”
“Huh?”
“We talked for a long time and you said you wanted to see my wallworld.”
“Your…”
She uncurled and tapped a command plate on the bedpad. The room immediately leaped into being around them.
“Ow!”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll tune down the light.”
It was the crystal cavern. She had gone back there, carefully shot the many angles, captured the myriad facets. Brilliance refracted and glinted everywhere. Miraculously, she had managed to assemble views without any reflection of herself or her equipment, so the shining cavern was a vision no one could ever see in person. It was better than reality. Then she had arranged her room so that furniture and appliances occupied dark areas of the cavern, enhancing the effect.
“It’s great. Everybody else uses Earth scenes.”
She shrugged. “I can get that National Geographic tourist stuff anytime.”
Even through his logy blur he was impressed. And slowly he remembered their conversation, how she had seemed witty, warm, bristling with ideas. He had never noticed that before, never given her a chance, really…
“So I came to see it…”
She nodded, eyebrows arched in amusement. “And passed out.”
“Oh.”
“I thought you might not appreciate having people see you being hauled unconscious through the tunnels, back to your bunk.”
“I guess not.”
She blinked, bit at her lip, and then said carefully, “I… liked the way we talked last night, Carl. We’ve never really had a chance to say very much to each other. Not since the first weeks.”
“Yeah,” he said uncomfortably. “Been busy.”
She said firmly, “I know you won’t let go of Virginia right away.”
“Let go? I haven’t got her.”
“Let go of the hope, then.”
He nodded sourly. “Right.”
“Not immediately, I know that.”
He looked at Lani as if seeing her for the first time. She was different than he had thought. Maybe…
But Virginia…
“There’s no rush,” she said, seeming to know exactly what he thought. All my emotions must be written across my face, he realized uneasily.
“I… Maybe you’re right. I’m so damned confused.”
She leaned forward and kissed him daintily on the lips. “Don’t be. Just do the work and leave little things like love and life for later.”
He had to smile. “You’re making this a lot easier for me than I deserve.”
“I want to.”
“I…”
She put a silencing finger to his lips. “Shush. You don’t have to be civil, not with a hangover like that.”
He showered—she had installed her own equipment, even arranged a projection of the crystal cavern inside the stall—and dressed. She kissed him goodbye, and before he had fully registered their conversation he was making his way to the suit-up room, shaky but ready for duty.
He was already at work before the hangover cleared and he felt the sudden weight of depression descend again. Ever since leaving Earth, he had worked with single-minded determination, never questioning. But now he couldn’t keep his mind oft bigger issues, problems he could see coming in the days ahead. There was nobody tie could trust to take care of that, not any longer.
Carl felt a yawning emptiness, a foreboding.
Captain Cruz is gone. It just doesn’t seem possible. What in the frozen hell are we going to do?
SAUL
It should not have been possible.
Saul stared at the patch of green and brown in the petri dish. It didn’t take a lab regimen to know he was looking at something that just shouldn’t exist.
Standing in a relaxed, low-G crouch, Spacer Tech Jim Vidor peered over Saul’s shoulder. Strictly speaking, the man wasn’t even supposed to be here. The decon mask over his mouth and nose were sops to the official quarantine Saul was under.
Saul took a fresh handkerchief from the sterilizer and wiped his nose. After two days, when it seemed his body was in no great hurry to flop over and die from this tsuris of a cold, the isolation order had lost some of its original urgency. To spacers, disease was an abstract threat, anyway. Far more real to them was the trouble they were having with gunk getting into everything from air circulators to mechs, threatening the machi
nery that kept them all alive.
Nevertheless, Saul motioned for Vidor to stand back—for the same reason he had kept Virginia away, in spite of her mutinous entreaties.
Nick Malenkov might be right, after all. Anything could happen, when Halley was able to come up with things like this on the dish before him.
“The stuff was growing in the main dehumidifier, way up where Shaft One intersects A Level, Dr. Lintz. I showed it to Dr. Malenkov when I got back down here to Complex, but he’s busy full time in sick bay now that Peltier’s keeled over. He said you were the grand keeper of native animals on this iceberg, anyway, so I brought it to you.”
No doubt Nick assumed you’d use a mech messenger, Saul thought. Every few hours a mechanical knocked on his door, carrying a thermos of soup and a tiny note from Virginia. Maybe those little packets were the real reason his dammed bug hadn’t gotten any worse.
Working with his gloved hands in an isolation box, he used sterilized forceps to tease apart a clump of red and green threads, lifting a few onto a microscope slide. The unit whirred as probes crept forward into position. This thing that couldn’t exist obviously did exist. It had to be examined.
Naturally, Malenkov would not be interested in looking at anything as macroscopic as this. As Shift-1 physician, Nick’s chief concern was the strange and terrifying illness that had appeared out of nowhere, killed their leader, and now had another victim prostrate in sick bay.
The “thawing” of Bethany Oakes and half-a-dozen more replacements had been delayed by discovery of brown slime in the warming bins, which had to be cleaned laboriously by hand. The resumed unslotting was now keeping the Russian medic too occupied to bother with anything so large—and therefore “harmless” —as threads blowing in a faraway tunnel.
Saul, exiled to his own lab, had little to do except analyze the tissue samples taken from poor Miguel Cruz and the new patient… and deal with queries from a worried Earth Control. Mostly, he had a broad-spectrum incubation program under way, from which he couldn’t expect results for at least another thirty-six hours.
“Have th’ tests told you anything at all about what killed th’ captain, Doc?”