Long View - Zelde M'Tana Part 26

"Sure." Deliberately, she rammed stiff fingers under his breastbone. The jab rocked him back; before he could catch his balance, she turned away. Over her shoulder she said, "Keep saying that, Carlo-while you try to tuck yourself back together. Might help, some." Her knees shook a little, but she walked good, anyway.

208.

Going back to the meeting, it struck her that maybe her life as a Wild Kid hadn't been all waste. At the door she stopped; except for Dopples, everyone had left.

"Where . . . ?"

"Surgery. But stay a minute here. You went after Maur-agin. Why?"

"You heard him make snot at Ragir. He don't do that again."

Dopples raised up on his elbows. "What did you do?"

"Just told him-but I think he heard me."

Sighing, the First Hat lay back. "I wish I knew what the h.e.l.l's going on. M'tana, I'm not your enemy."

"Never thought you was-or not lately." She started to leave.

"Wait-let's clear this." She stopped. "If Parnell . . . I'm not fit to take command, and may not be at all, during this trip. As for Tzane-command's no good in the hands of someone who's afraid of it. So that leaves you."

"And Carlo. He was Third before me. And seems to think-"

"Seems to-and I think that says it. M'tana-since liftoff, I don't like the feel of things. That Policeb.i.t.c.h-"

"Not the problem, her. Leastways I don't think so. And Turk's looking it, there, so it's under control."

Silence, then Adopolous nodded. "I have to go along with you, M'tana. Until Ragir gets back to himself, there's no one else. So keep me informed, will you? And anything I can do for you-"

"Sure." Because it's for the ship. But it touched her, what he said. Grinning, she gave him the best salute she knew how.

Outside Surgery, Zelde squinted through the little window. Still an aide messing over Ragir, so all right to go in. The door swung shut behind her; she stopped and looked at him.

A tube in his arm; Fesler had said about that. His body was lathered from chest to thighs; the aide looked up, gestured with the razor in her hand. "The fancy gadget we have for this-it clunked out, naturally. So back to the Dark Ages."

209.

Zelde smiled, and moved past to stand by Parnell's head. A little doped up, he looked, but not bad. "Ragir?"

He licked his lips. "Back, are you? Afraid you wouldn't be, before-" His headshake was slow. "What it was about, with Mauragin-tell me after. Can't think now- Fesler's drugs swinging my head on a string. But I thought-tried to fix everything simple, in case-and it all came up a fight. Zelde . . ."

To hear him, now, she had to bend down. She leaned all the way, and kissed him.

"Don't worry. Stuff I got to tell you later, but-" What to say? Then she had it.

"Rooster's upship, mounting our new insigne. And I just talked with Dopples, and he's solid on our side."

Lying back, his grin relaxed to slackness, Parnell sighed. "Ol' Dopps-he's with you, why tha.s.s' fine. He-"

Fesler's voice. "All right, Zelde-move back now, please?" As she did, Parnell's eyes closed, and Fesler made an injection. She moved farther away; from there she saw Parnell's lower torso-the aide was finished. She held back a giggle. Never knew 'til now how big a man does look, not hiding in no bush!

Masked and gloved, sorting through a tray of instruments, Fesler said, "It's time you left, Zelde."

"How so? I'll stay back, won't make a fuss. I-"

Emphatic headshake. "No. I have to do things, lifting and displacing, that you couldn't see without protesting." She tried to speak but he cut her off. 'Wo.' The captain needs all his best chances; I can't cope with distractions. So-"

She couldn't argue with that. "All right. Just do your best." She left without waiting for an answer-and heard her feet hit the deck as if daring someone to say they shouldn't.

Where to go-Control, galley, Turk's place? She went to quarters. But inside-no Parnell, and she couldn't go be with him. A drink? She poured whisky, tasted it.

No, it needed ice, so she slugged off enough spirits to make room for a cube, and added it. She sat. She kicked off her shoes. She looked at the intercom-but who was there to call?

The swerving jar, when it came, threw her almost out of her chair. What the living f.u.c.k? She dropped the gla.s.s; 210.

trying to get up, she fell to her knees. Drunk? No-under her, the ship had moved.

Barefoot she scrambled to the intercom.

"Control? M'tana here. Report! What happened?"

No answer. "G.o.dd.a.m.n you, up there! What's going on?"

There wasn't going to be an answer. All right-find the shoes, put them on; bare toes don't kick so good. She was outside before she thought of the gun. She paused, then shrugged. Who needed it?

Upship fast, and breathing deep on purpose, she went into Control. She stopped; everybody was just sitting like nothing happened. She looked around.

On watch was Mauragin-stop to think, she already knew that. Charvel on comm, and only one other. Two, then, on galley break.

Didn't matter-anybody pulling something, had to be Carlo. She went up beside him-a little back, so he had to look up and around to see her.

"What happened, Carlo? Tel! it fast."

His face went stubborn. "A blip on the screen-close, and fast. I was lucky to dodge it, whatever it was."

"Pull back and run me the tape."

He shook his head. "No tape; something wasn't working."

"I didn't see any blip." It was Charvel who spoke, looking like he expected to get hit for it.

Carlo said, "If you'd been paying attention, you would have."

Well, now-maybe things were shaping up? But Charvel said, "Red light on the top airlock-what do I do about it?"

Mauragin hesitated. "Faulty alarm circuit. Cancel it."

Wait a minute! "Rooster Hogan-he still outside there?"

Charvel's face was blank, but Carlo's wasn't. No time, though. Zelde said, "You, Carlo-hold course as is-no matter what. That's an order, mister!" Then she turned and sprinted-fast as she could go, lungs burning her-to the topside airlock.

The outside light blinked; somebody wanted in. Through the inner port, Zelde squinted; the outer door wasn't opening, and it should be. The lights on the panel-she figured it out-Control held that door shut. All right. Manual over- 211.

ride, here-she punched it, and that outer door moved. It came wide enough; a suited figure came in. And then the door wouldn't close!

s.h.i.t. Override again, it took, to shut s.p.a.ce out. She waited, while airlock pressure built up; then she undogged the inner door. Rooster, grinning through his faceplate, came inside.

Until she'd outwrestled Control to secure the airlock- both doors-she couldn't help Rooster open the suit. "Hey-you all right?"

"Just barely. How come somebody didn't want to let me in?"

"Don't know yet-aim to find out, though. What happened?"

Rooster's story was simple enough. Outside, finished with mounting the insigne- then came a fierce jolt. "Threw me free of the ship, Zelde-I hung out there-it took a time to pull myself in by my lifeline. And then I found the lock was closed on it. I couldn't get in." His eyes widened. "You think somebody did that on purpose?"

Think, h.e.l.l-1 know it! "We'll find out. Let's get you free of that suit." One more problem, though. "You got no kind of gun with you, I suppose?"

"For what? No, of course not."

It didn't matter; for now, Control and Mauragin had to wait. "Never mind. Where we go first, we don't need one."

Downship, and fast-at the Surgery, Zelde peeked through the small window, and knocked. Fesler-masked, but who else moved the way he did?-looked up and signaled a wait. All right. "Let's sit down, Rooster-it may be a while."

"I could use a coffee. You, too, maybe? I'd get it."

She thought. "No. Scout around here, find somebody's not busy-send them. And not to say who they're getting it for." He looked puzzled. "If somebody tried to kill you outside, why tell them where you are now? Got it?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah." Now he looked as if he'd known it, what she said, all along. He winked at her and left the anteroom. Zelde sat, thinking. . . .

Rooster Hogan was no dummy. It was only-well, he didn't realize how much of everything was out to kill you.

212.

He brought back coffee and some tasty, b.u.t.tered bread. She didn't ask how he got it; she thanked him, and ate. They waited a long time until Fesler, mask off, came to let them into Surgery. At first look, Zelde didn't like what he might say.

"Parnell-he all right?"

"I don't-I hope so. It was going well, easier than I expected, though I found some bad things-" The man shook his head. Zelde waited; for sure, there was more on his mind.

He craned his head from side to side-turning it, stretching the neck muscles. "I was doing the best I could, and then-what d.a.m.ned fool bucked the ship like that? And why?" Maybe two birds at once, Carlo had in mind to kill. Fesler went on: "I was inside him-opened almost from navel to p.u.b.es, to make sure I didn't miss anything- I'd begun to cut, to separate an adhesion. Then the jar-it threw my weight onto that hand! I-"

"Not your fault, Fesler. Just tell the damage." In her own ears, her voice sounded dead.

"An artery-not the big one, peace be thanked-but he must have lost nearly two liters before I could find it in the mess and clamp it off. Then we got a transfusion going immediately-but still it took time to clear the blood out so I could find the other end and splice it back. And all the while, vital organs lacking for oxygen-though I detected no overt damage from that cause."

He sounded dazed, Fesler did. "A nerve bundle severed, too. It's b.u.t.ted back together-organic sealer-it should heal. I'm not even sure, though-with everything pulled off to the sides so I could get in where I had to-not sure which nerves they are."

Zelde's face, the tight muscles, hurt her; by effort she relaxed, some. "Any effects you noticed, from that?"

"No; the vital signs didn't change." He gave a nervous snicker. "The effect was on me. I'd been working pretty well, I thought-one thing at a time, being cautious. After that, though, I had no confidence-in myself, or the ship holding steady. Started working too fast-had to go back and do some things over again. Then I was afraid to close him, for fear I'd forgotten something. And I'm still not sure I was right to do so."

213.

"You were. We got to believe that, for now." Between her hands Zelde took one of the man's clenched fists, kneading it until it loosened. "Now tell me the rest. What did you see wrong in him-and what did you do about it?" Some coffee was left-rank, by now, but better than nothing. She steered Fesler to a seat and poured him a cup.

He didn't seem to notice the taste, or that the cup had been used. He took one gulp. "As I'd thought-the liver's in bad shape. He simply has to stop drinking, any at all. Kidneys, I couldn't tell by looking-I don't know how. But the captain was right about adhesions-those were the worst of it."

"Could-did you fix all that?"

He nodded. "Pretty much, I think. One set of convolutions in the small intestine made almost a solid lump-I had to excise it completely, and resection. A wonder it hadn't closed off and killed him, months ago." He shook his head. "Another bad delay, there. I wasn't sure of the procedure, and had to stop everything while I looked it up."

He drained the cup; Zelde filled it again, but Fesler let it sit and cool. "But I cleaned up the adhesions, all right. As with Dopples-they won't grow together again, because the organic tape doesn't absorb before everything's healed."

"Then except for the . . . accident-"

"Except for that, I'd be fully optimistic. Nothing I can do about weakened organs, of course, but he won't be having that constant pain now. The mishap, though-having to keep him knocked out so much longer certainly didn't help his chances. I'll do the best I can; you know that."

"Sure. When's he due to come awake next?"

Headshake. "In his condition, I can't predict that. I'll call you." He looked up at the overhead, and said, "I still want to know who jumped the ship that way."

Zelde stood. "That's for me to take care of. And I think it's time I did."

As she went into Control, Rooster behind her, Mauragin turned and said, "You're late relieving me; do you know that?"

She looked around. Of Mauragin's watch, only he and Charvel remained; the others present were her own watch-mates. "You're not exactly off duty yet, Carlo.

I'm taking 214.

over, but you don't leave. You either, Charvel, if you don't mind."

Mauragin left his seat; Zelde went to it and stood, resting one b.u.t.tock against an armrest. Carlo said, "What if / mind?"

"File a complaint. Then stuff it." Quickly she scanned back through the log. All it said, the part she wanted, was that watch-officer Mauragin spotted a fast incoming blip and swerved to avoid collision, then returned to proper course. She checked; yes, at least he'd done that much right. But no mention of his failure to have a confirming tape. She turned. "Tell it again, Carlo, why you jumped the ship around like that."

Same as before, he told it. She said, "Now you, Charvel. What you did see, I mean, this time-not what you didn't."

The short, redhaired man looked uncertain; he scratched his head. "Let me think a minute. Well, my panels were quiet. I was daydreaming, I guess-staring over past Carlo but not really seeing him, until he moved."

"Moved? How?"

"He was looking down at a screen"-down, so it would have to be interior view-"and he nodded. Then he looked up to the forward screen and yelled there was a blip.

Then he reached, and the ship jumped." He spread his hands. "That's all I saw."

"Which inside screen was he watching? Could you tell?"

"Right side, I think."