AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, this is Sy Murdoch,” the medic said. “He came up to ask some questions of the TaoLini woman. You sent her down to P-T, didn’t you?”
Hali stood up, recalling the grapevine stories about Murdoch: Kelp and clones. Lab One director. One of Lewis’ people.
“Why would you want to move him?” she asked.
“I understand from the medics that Raul Andrit has been taken to sickbay with a similar seizure. It occurred to me that . . .”
“You say Raul Andrit with a certain familiarity,” she said. “You’re wearing groundside. What do you know about . . .”
“Now, see here! I don’t have to answer your . . .”
“You’ll answer me or a medical board. This could be a disease brought up from groundside. What’s your association with Raul Andrit?”
His face went blank, completely unreadable, then: “I know his father.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all. I’ve never seen the child before. I just . . . knew he was here, shipside.”
Hali, trained from childhood to be a med-tech, to support life and see that Shipmen survived, knew each bodily muscle, nerve, gland and blood vessel by name and often spoke to them quietly as she worked. Instinctively, she knew that Murdoch was trained otherwise. He repelled her. And he was lying.
“What’s your business with Waela TaoLini?”
“That concerns the Ceepee, not you.”
“Waela TaoLini has been put in my charge by the Natali. That’s Ship’s business. Anything concerning her concerns me.”
“It’s just routine,” Murdoch said.
Every mannerism said it was not just routine, but before she could respond, she saw Waela walk into the play area.
While she was still at some distance, Waela called: “They said somebody here was looking for me. Do you . . .”
“Stay back there!” Hali called. “We’ve some sick boys and we don’t want them near any expectant mothers. Wait for me over in the Natali Section. I’ll join you in . . .”
“Forget it!” That was Murdoch speaking with a new forcefulness. He gave every indication of someone who had come to an important decision. “We’ll meet with Ferry in Medical. Immediately.”
Hali protested: “With Ferry? He doesn’t . . .”
“Oakes left him in charge shipside. That should be good enough for you.” He turned on his heel and strode from the area.
Chapter 54
Myths are not fiction, but history seen with a poet’s eyes and recounted in a poet’s terms.
—Shipquotes
FERRY SAT at his command couch sipping a pale liquid which reeked of mint. He had been reviewing biostats on a shielded viewscreen when Hali and Waela entered and he did not lower the shields.
The command cubby, which had been tacked onto the Processing complex after Oakes’ departure, was brightly illuminated by corner remotes which filled the room with yellow light. There was a sharp smell of caustic cleaner in the air.
Hali noted two things immediately: Ferry was not yet overcome by the drink and he appeared fearful. Then she saw that the command center had been tidied recently. Anywhere Ferry worked was soon a scattered mess—a notorious situation shipside where instincts of neatness equated with survival. But things had been made neat here. Unusual.
She saw Murdoch then and realized that Ferry feared what Murdoch might report to Oakes. Murdoch stood at one side of the command center, arms folded, impassive.
Ferry closed down his screen with a conscious flourish, swiveled to face the newcomers.
“Thank you for coming along so quickly.”
Ferry’s voice was reedy with controlled emotions. He stroked the bridge of his nose once, an unconscious imitation of Oakes.
Waela noted that his fingers were trembling.
What does he fear? she wondered.
The man’s furtiveness spoke of terrified concealments.
Is it something to do with my baby?
The characteristic blip of her own fears lifted and fell. And there was Kerro’s voice: “Trust Hali and Ship, Waela. Trust them.”
Waela tried to swallow in a dry throat. Could no one else hear him? She shot a furtive glance around the room. When she heard the voice, she felt sure of it. The instant it was gone, she doubted. Her real-time perceptions were demanding full attention, though. Physical senses honed to high sensitivity by the necessities of survival on Pandora—these she trusted. And Ferry demanded her attention. The man was a menace, operating on several levels of deception. She had heard the stories about Ferry, a competent-enough medical man with a few eccentricities, but not to be trusted alone with a young woman.
Her eyes told her something else.
A humbler, Waela told herself, who sits in the command seat. Interesting. Why did Oakes choose a humbler?
Waela’s Pandora-sensitized nostrils detected alcohol in Ferry’s drink. She put on her best impassive mask to conceal the recognition. The groundside uses of alcohol and tetrahydracannabinol in their various forms were generally accepted in Colony. But somehow she had not expected this shipside. With Ship to protect them . . . well, Shipmen had long held that alcohol was a risky and undesirable poison shipside. But then again, she knew that Ferry, like herself, had spent his early years Earthside. His reversion might not be all that unusual.
Still, Ferry’s actions interested her. If the fact of her impregnation outside Ship’s regular breeding program were taken seriously in certain circles . . . Well, why else would Ferry be using viewscreen shields? And alcohol! She did not want her life, nor her baby’s life, depending on someone who deliberately lowered his acuities.
Drinking, she thought. The word was dredged up out of her childhood and she had a bottomless-pit feeling about the hyb-plus-waking time which had passed since she had equated that word with alcohol.
The shielded screen bothered her. It was time someone invaded Ferry’s privacy, she thought.
“That drink smells like fresh mint. Could I taste it?”
“Yes . . . of course,”
It was not of course, but he offered her the glass. “Just a taste. It’s not the kind of thing a prospective mother should have.”
The glass was cold against her fingers. She sipped the drink and closed her eyes, recalling a scorched afternoon in Earthside summer when her mother had let her have a diluted mint julep with the grownups. The color of this drink was paler, but it was definitely bourbon with mint. She opened her eyes and saw Ferry’s gaze fixed on the glass.
Hungry for it, she saw. He’s nearly drooling.
“It’s quite good,” she said. “Where did you get it?”
He reached for the glass, but Waela handed it to Hali, who hesitated and looked at Ferry, then at Waela.
“Go ahead,” Waela said. “Everyone should have one sometime. I had my first when I was twelve.”
When Hali still hesitated, Ferry said, “Perhaps she shouldn’t, what with this strange illness going around. What if it’s catching?”
He treats it like a precious jewel, Waela thought. It must be hard to get.
She said: “If it’s that contagious, we’ve caught it. Go ahead, Hali.”
The younger woman sipped, swallowed and immediately bent her head in a fit of coughing, the glass thrust out for someone to take it.
Ferry grabbed it from her hand.
Eyes watering, Hali said: “That’s terrible!”
“It’s all in knowing what to expect,” Ferry said.
“And lots of practice,” Waela said. “You never told us where you got it. Not one of our lab alcohols, is it?”
Ferry placed the glass carefully on the deck beside his seat.
“It’s from Pandora.”
“Must be hard to get.”
“Don’t we have more important things to discuss?” Murdoch asked.
They were his first words, and they transfixed Ferry. He reached down for the drink, drew his hand back without it. He turned and fussed with the controls for his screen
, dropped the shield, hesitated, then left it down.
Waela promised herself that she would use the first opportunity to call up the records Ferry found so interesting. With unrestricted use of Ship’s research facilities, it would not be difficult.
Murdoch moved around behind Ferry, an action which increased Ferry’s nervousness.
Waela found herself sympathizing with the old man. Murdoch in that position would make anyone’s shoulder blades twitch.
Ferry sputtered, then: “I was . . . ahh, waiting for some, ahhh, others to come up before, ahhh, taking up the, ahh, business we . . . I mean . . .”
“What are we doing here?” Hali asked. She did not like the undercurrents flowing through this room. Unspoken threats lay heavy on Ferry’s shoulders and it was obvious they came from Murdoch.
Ferry reached for the drink with a convulsive motion, but before he could put it to his lips, Murdoch reached over Ferry’s shoulder and removed the glass from his hand.
“This’ll wait.”
Murdoch put the glass on a ledge behind him. As he turned back toward the others, the hatch opened and three people entered.
