Long View - Zelde M'Tana Part 16

With all cargo loaded, the Khan's lift clearance waited on the Bonaparte's arrival.

Nearly a week now, since that word had come. But it was standard practice, Zelde learned-don't, to save a few days, waste the chance to exchange news across the lightyears.

"Or so the Port sees the matter," Parnell said. "For myself, I want off this world so bad I can taste it-but not, I hope, before Turk gets us some Hidden World coordi- nates." Kestler had made two contacts, who didn't appear to know of each other.

"The cell system," said Parnell. "It's old, but it works." But so far, neither of them had told her the things Chanticleer needed to know.

In his second try at Third Hat, Carlo Mauragin did a better job. The log showed no complaints about him. And checking back, Zelde found that he'd pa.s.sed for his Chief's rating, all right. By the date of it, she guessed that was what he'd been celebrating, the night she and Dopples met trouble. Well, it looked like he'd learned to settle down to business.

Dopples took a setback-something about drainage and 137.

infection-and had to be moved back to "hospital." When Fesler got the fever down again, Dopples came back to making sense-but he'd lost weight, and his voice was weak, like his gestures.

The Verranes visited aboard again. Parnell surprised Zelde by inviting the two to captain's quarters-since they weren't in the line of s.p.a.ce Command, she knew he didn't have to do that. By the looks of them, they knew it, too. Then, his head turned so the couple couldn't see, Parnell winked at her. All right-sure-give them something they couldn't get by demanding, they'd think he trusted them.

In quarters, Parnell saw his guests seated, and poured drinks. "It's more relaxed here, and I feel like relaxing." Fat chance. "Now then-how can I help you?"

They wanted to know more about Parnell's friend Mal-loy-and the way plump Cort kept peeking at his notepad, Zelde figured he'd got his questions from Summit Bay headquarters. Mainly, somebody was curious about "a pig in the parlor."

Parnell put on a good act-Zelde could see the tension in him, but near as she could tell, the Verranes didn't notice. Sipping his drink, he lolled back and told long, ram- bling stories of himself and Malloy, long ago in the s.p.a.ce Academy. And to this audience he didn't say Slaughterhouse. Innocent pranks, he told about-things that boys would do, skirting the edge of trouble but meaning no real harm. She wondered-maybe some of the tales were true, even!

". . . and the cadet captain, no one liked him, had to lead the graduation parade in boots two sizes too small- and never did find out how his own came to be frozen solid, full of ice!"

Cort Verrane laughed; his wife gave a polite chuckle, and said, "So the message he left for you-that referred to some similar lark?"

Now Parnell frowned. "Probably so-but I don't know what." As Cort sat up, brows raised, Parnell waved a hand. "A year behind me at the Academy, Malloy was. And he's never had the worlds' most precise memory-which may be the reason he hasn't made Captain as yet. So I think-" And now he nodded. "I think he must be joking about something that happened during his final cadet year-and he's forgotten that I wouldn't know about it."

138.

Cort's eyes narrowed. "So the message was a total waste?"

Parnell laughed. "Oh, no-it's always good to hear from an old friend. And now, when we do meet next, I know he has a good new story for me."

Well. He'd cut that subject off, neat as all h.e.l.l. The Ver-ranes looked at each other.

When Parnell, rising, offered to freshen their drinks, Cort started to accept-but Amzella shook her head. "No, thank you, Captain. We should get back to our dull routines. Right, Cort?" The man drained his gla.s.s, stood, and shook Parnell's hand.

Good-byes were quick; Amzella said, "Don't bother to escort us, please. We know the way."

Parnell nodded. "I'm sure you do. But the forms of courtesy-were you to leave ship unaccompanied, some might think I'd slighted you. Can't have that, can we?" His movement, as Zelde saw he intended, swept the Verranes along with him. Amzelia looked as if she wanted to change something but didn't know how.

Parnell wasn't gone long. He came in, poured himself a strong drink, then sat.

Zelde said, "You really did a job on those two."

"I hope so-for peace knows, the doing took it out of me!"

She saw his tension, and in his face the unhealthy color. "Drink half of that, Parnell, then lie down and rest. I'll put the other half to stay cool for you. Or would you rather. . . ."

His face twitched. "I'd rather, yes-but I need the rest more. I'm sorry, Zelde."

She went to him. "Don't you be sorry about anything. You do so much, so good.

Just rest up and get healthy- and once we're off this world, that'll come easier, too.

Now do your drinking quick and your resting slower."

He took one sip, then handed her the gla.s.s. "Put it away-I'll have a pill instead, and save this for when I get up." She frowned, but he didn't seem to notice. When he lay down she pulled a cover up to his chin, and kissed his forehead.

"You could use it darker, maybe?" He nodded; she walked over and dimmed the lights. "All right. I'll be back and wake you for dinner, if you need waking."

139.

Going out the door, she looked back. His eyes were open.

Fesler wasn't with Dopples-the First Hat lay asleep- or in the infirmary. She found him in his office. After the small talk-her ear was doing okay, and Dopples was coming along slow but making it-Zelde sat one b.u.t.tock on the edge of the desk and leaned across. "I got to know what's wrong with Parnell. And what the h.e.l.l to do about it." She explained: him tired all the time, nervous and having trouble sleeping- she didn't say about there being d.a.m.n' little s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g lately-too many pills, not much appet.i.te. "And the booze, is that good or bad? I try not to worry, but all ways he gets worse."

The man frowned. "If we had a real doctor. . . ." He shook his head. "We have to do with what's available. All right-talking from hindsight, and I admit it . . ."

When Parnell got hurt so much at Escape, Fesler said, he was already worn down a lot. The months of plotting and keeping it secret, stretched him too thin. "He's not a natural worrier like Dopples-who thrives on it-nor yet a go-to-h.e.l.l type like Terihew. The balance wheel between those two, I expect he was. Then when all of it happened- instead of being able to relax, finally, as he needed to- well, he lost his woman and d.a.m.ned near got killed, himself. Low ebb, Zelde-and he's had no chance to come back from it."

Her clenched hands hurt. "I try-"

"Sure, I know. Now then-the pills. I know I should ration them to him." He spread his hands. "It's the rank, I guess-the status. He's the skipper. My actual rating is Second-he's upped it to Chief for pay purposes, but I've never even pa.s.sed tests for First. n.o.body to give me them. And he and I, we both know that. So when he said, don't bother him with drawing pain pills and peppers in small amounts, I-"

She reached and gripped his shoulder. "You tell me what the ration ought to be, and I'll see to it. If I can talk him into going along-or maybe even if 1 can't. And what about booze?"

His forehead wrinkled. "Pain pills-three a day should be tops but I doubt he could manage on less than four. The uppers-one's the safe limit, but it's the same again; he'll 140.

need two. And booze? With that other stuff, he shouldn't have any-but he will, we know that. Just so he doesn't get really drunk, I guess."

He gestured to her. "This is lousy medical practice. If Parnell were a rating, I'd slap him into infirmary and make my orders stick. But he's Captain, and we need him functioning. Especially groundside here, and with Dopples out of action. So I just hope his liver and kidneys can take the punishment he's giving them."

Sure-too much booze and not enough good eating curdled your liver. And Fesler's hunch was that some of Par-nell's inside pains from Escape were a kidney; the location sounded like it. And any kind of pain dope shut your body down partway, to boot.

No-to his question-Parnell didn't have to take a leak any more often than anybody else. No getting up in the middle of the night, that she knew of. But Fesler still thought his guess was right.

Nothing more to talk about; Zelde stood. "All right. What I do, Fesler, is try to hold down on the pills. And see he eats right, if I got to stuff him with both hands.

Not worry about the booze much, long as it stays about like now. Right?" He nodded. "Good. And thanks-1 sure h.e.l.l had to talk with somebody as knew something." She started to leave.

Fesler smiled. "That's all right-any time. I owe you, Zelde, remember? And the captain, too."

Thinking back, Zelde stopped. She held thumb and first finger close together. "I came that close to killing you, then." She grinned. "Sure glad I didn't."

Prowling, feeling that it was too early to disturb Parnell, Zelde went to Control.

Going in, she heard Carlo Maura-gin talking, then saw him facing a man's picture on the viewscreen. "But, sir, I told you-the line to captain's quarters is redlighted.

Which means-"

"Yes, I know-don't disturb except for emergency." The pictured head nodded-a thin, intense face under sleek dark hair. The mouth tightened. "Well, far be it from me to interfere with Parnell's pleasures in bed." You're not. I wish you was. "So tell him, when he has time to listen, that his old friend Jimar Peralta congratulates him on achieving command so soon. And that the Bonaparte lands tomor- 141.

row, your time, so I'll be shaking his hand in person." The man grinned. "In my other hand, of course, I'll carry a bottle. It's the custom."

"Yes, sir." Carlo sounded relieved. "And if it's all right, sir, I'm sure the captain would want me to thank you for him."

"I'm sure-and acknowledged. First Officer Peralta signing out." The screen went dark.

Zelde walked to the control console; Mauragin looked around to greet her.

"Whew! Did you see that, Zelde? This Peralta-I didn't know what to do-he acts like he thinks he's an admiral, or something."

"Polite enough toward the end there, wasn't he?"

"I guess-but that man puts pressure on you, all the way."

And Parnell was worried about him, too. Zelde nodded, started to say something and then didn't. Finally: "Maybe up close he's not so tough. We'll have to see, I guess."

When she went into quarters Parnell was sitting up, two pills in one hand and a drink in the other. Not the one she'd put away for him; this was darker. She said, "l.u.s.t hold it right there! Parnell-before you get any more of those d.a.m.n pills in you, we got to talk."

Looking up, he glared at her; then he set the pills on the bedside stand. "What's got into you now?"

"A little sense, and I hope it's catching." She went to kiss him, and sat with one arm hugging tight and holding his free hand. "I been talking with Fesler. You got you a problem, Ragir-and I need to help at it."

He took a deep breath; coming back out, it sounded ragged. "Say away, Zelde. Say away."

She did-awkward and stumbling at first, and then with a fierce bite to her voice.

"I'm not letting you wreck yourself! I know you hurt and I hate that-but hurt gets well if you hang in through it. This dope, though-it drags you down sicker. Parnell- if I want your life to stay with mine, I got to do what I hate to!"

When she was done talking, he said, "All right, Zelde. Take charge of the pills, as you said." He gave her the two he held. "What's my ration?" She quoted Fesler; Parnell shook his head. "I can't function on three a day-not until we're safely away and Dopples is fit for duty. Then, 142.

maybe-but I've been taking five, some days six. So I-"

They compromised. Three pills a day, he'd get without question. For anything more, he'd have to ask specially. And the bottle went into Zelde's locked drawer, out of bounds to Parnell. She looked at him-was this going to work? But he nodded, and said, "Yes. That's best. But every day you put the ration out for me; I can't be bothering you for each one separately-when one of us is on duty, for instance." He smiled. "And certainly-nag me to eat, if that's what it takes."

Sitting again, she squeezed him tighter. "For sure, I'll do that, love."

"Yes. Now don't worry about the liquor unless you see it getting out of hand. I've had no trouble that way since my first trip out of the Slaughterhouse-when every time I went groundside, someone had to carry me back aboard. All right?"

"Sure, Parnell." She slid free of him, to look at him directly. "Now, something else. This Peralta, you said about. He called us."

As she told it, the bare facts only, his frown deepened. At the end, he said, "And what's your impression of the man-the feel of him?"

"Wound up tight. Pressured, and putting it onto everybody he comes against. He had Carlo about ready to drop his pants and squat to pee."

"Yes." Parnell's cheek twitched. "Well, I'm not Carlo."

"He's young, Ragir."

"You're younger. But I think it'd take more than Jimar Peralta to jeopardize your toilet training." She laughed, but stopped when she saw him rub his side and wince. "No getting around it-I tore something there, in the fight, and it's healed wrong. If it healed at all. Maybe when Dopples is back -in shape, I can get Fesler to take a look into me. I don't know what for-some kind of adhesions? I'm certainly no medic. . . ." He looked at his drink, the little that was left of it, pale from melted ice.

Then his gaze went to Zelde.

After a moment, she laughed. "For peace' sake, Parnell! Your second drink, you don't have to ask. Here-" She made it for him, and one for herself, and sat again.

Gla.s.s between his hands, he wiggled it, clinking the ice. "Peralta. He's served notice he'll be coming aboard, to 143.

snoop. Haiglund won't come here-he'll stick to protocol, where the junior captain does the visiting." He paused. "Zelde?"

"Yeah, Ragir?"

"Maybe there's no danger-but as long as I've known Peralta, everywhere he goes, he pushes. Landing tomorrow, you said? So now we phase out groundside leave; if we have to lift fast, we'll leave no one behind for Committee Police questioning. See to it, Zelde?" She nodded. "And tell Henty Monteil to drop whatever she's doing and fix that d.a.m.ned intercom at the cargo port. Fine thing, if we need to scoot and there's the ramp hanging open."

"Won't it close from Control, too?" Then she remembered. "No-safety interlock, in case somebody's on it. All right-I'll go start on that stuff." She gave him a quick kiss, but when she tried to stand he still held her.

"It isn't that urgent. And I'm not hurting, right now- and it's been a while.

Zelde?"

She grinned. "Sure." As they undressed, she said, "You just lie back flat for once, so you don't have to hump your guts up in a knot. And let me-"

Any time he started getting too active, she shushed him back to quiet-and not a single time did he wince, the way she'd come to hate. At the end, she lay forward and held him, so he couldn't see her tears. But she was smiling. Not real good yet, Parnell-but this was the best he'd been in quite a spell.

First in Control and then in Henty's workshop, she carried out Parnell's orders.

She looked in on Dopples; he was eating, and griping about the food. "Well, sir-I don't notice you leaving any."

"Starve to death, if I did-but that doesn't mean I like this bland pap." Finished, he pushed the tray aside. "Now what's been happening? Fesler tells me nothing-if he knows what's going on, he's good at keeping it secret."

"Not a lot to tell. You know we're done loading cargo, and refueled." She shook her head. "I keep meaning to ask Parnell, how he knows we got enough fuel when we don't know where to go yet." Because Turk, trying to get to the Underground group, wasn't having enough luck to wet a fishhook.

Dopples looked surprised. "You didn't know why we 144.

picked Farmer's Dell for our next stop, in the faked log?" She didn't; she waited.

"Because from here to there takes as much fuel as any two average, normal hops.

It's not the distance-" He was getting interested in what he was saying; he hitched up on the pillows and bore down with his voice, more. "-expanding gas nebulae, from old supernova explosions, and it takes two abrupt course changes to avoid them. So UET, stingy as it may be, had to dole out enough fuel to leave us with some flexibility." He'd talked too much, too fast; a coughing fit doubled him over. Until he sat up and wiped his eyes, Zelde stayed quiet. Then he asked about Parnell's plans for liftoff, and Zelde said it was set for three days after Bonaparte's landing.

"Leastways, if Turk finds us a good place to go, by then." Of Peralta, she told only that the man had called. Dopples made no comment, and Zelde left to meet Parnell in the galley.

He looked cheerful; as she sat across from him, he smiled. "Good eating tonight; we loaded more meat than there's room to freeze, so everyone gets big helpings for a while." But when the food came he didn't seem too interested, and she had to nag him to finish most of it. "Oh, it's fine," he said once. "It's just-I'm not-" She patted his hand; he picked up his tableware and ate some more.

He never lost his taste for coffee; he was into his third cup when he said, "I'm going to have a try, tomorrow, at short-circuiting Peralta." At her look, he grinned.

"Simple enough-I'll pay captain's visit to the Bonaparte as soon as Haiglund will allow, before Jimar can get loose to come calling, himself. Then if he's mentioned it in his skipper's hearing-the business of toasting my new command- Haiglund may think to have him haul his bottle out then and there, so as to have a share of it." He shrugged. "Well, it's worth trying."