Long View - Zelde M'Tana Part 29

"Perhaps. But confer with me first, if that's at all possible."

She changed the subject then, trying to cheer him-but when she left she knew it hadn't really worked, much.

Zelde and Turk found Dopples awake. When Zelde brought him up to date, he said she should have told Par-nell the whole story. "Then he'd agree to a full trial, not a mere hearing. And of course that's another reason for me to preside-not Ragir, even if he were fit. The victim of an attack can't sit as judge."

Through the covers, he rubbed his belly. "In another week, I should be up. Will the situation wait that long?"

Turk said, "Maybe it's better if that gang does try something. We'd learn a lot that we haven't been able to find out."

"a.s.suming we won." But from Dopples' expression, Zelde guessed that he liked Turk's thinking. He raised a finger. "If we're in a hurry, there's another way.

Harger has the rank to convene a court."

Startled, Zelde frowned. "Rank, yeah-but does he know how?"

"His training, at the Slaughterhouse, was the same as ours-and probably just as rusty by now. M'tana, even Parnell would have to bone up on that procedure." He squinted at her. "The information's all in the computer, if you're curious."

229.

He yawned. "I'm tired again; that still comes too easily. But before you go-what do you intend to do next?"

The decision didn't take long. "Go have a talk with Carlo Mauragin. It's about time I did that."

As they approached Mauragin's guarded door, that door opened. A woman came out-short, a little chubby but well shaped. Fluffy blonde hair, blue eyes in a face that owed some of its roundness to fat. She said something to the guard; he nodded, and she turned to leave. Zelde moved, caught her arm and spun her around.

"Hold it a minute. What's all this?"

The blonde licked her lips. "I was just visiting Carlo. I'm-"

"I know who you are. Except your name."

"Vanny Hackter." Turk said it.

Zelde nodded. "All right, Vanny-what's this visiting!"

"They told me-I could go or stay-you didn't care. So . . . "

Peace make a puddle! She hadn't said-yes, she had, too. "All right-my fault. I meant you could go or stay- not both. You've been in and out, just as you please?"

"Yes. I thought-"

"No blame. Except now you go in and you stay there."

"But I'm supposed to-" She stopped, gulped; a hand went to her mouth.

Zelde's grip tightened. "Say it." The girl shook her head.

Turk said, "If you want answers, Zelde, I can get them." Again Vanny shook her head. "Oh, yes, I can, missy-no trouble at all." Turk put a hand to Vanny's neck, and squeezed once.

While Zeide tried to decide-did she want this kind of thing, right now?-Vanny started crying. "I was just to tell-someone-Carlo's tired of waiting. That's all. And I don't know what it means-I really don't."

I do, maybe. She nodded to Turk. "All right. Let's go in."

Hackter squirmed and tried to pull away. "My things-I don't have much of anything at Carlo's."

"Make out a list. Somebody'll take care of it for you." And to the guard: "From now on, this one stays here. She and Mauragin, they don't talk to n.o.body without I say they can. Anything anybody brings here, you or your relief in- 230.

spect it before you hand it in. Same with stuff coming out. Got it?"

The man nodded. "That's how we've done it-except that she could go in and out.

I-".

"My mistake, not yours. Forget it."

The three went inside. Carlo Mauragin, wearing a pair of shorts, sat drinking beer. He had better muscles than Zelde expected, but the way he looked and smelled, it had been a while since he combed his hair, or washed. And by his flushed face and reddened eyes, he'd been drinking most of that time.

He squinted up at her. "Well! A visit from the jailer." His voice didn't sound drunk. "When do I get a hearing? You can't coop me up here forever, M'tana.

Regulations say-"

"UET Regs, Carlo?" She shook her head. "You get a trial-not a hearing-when I say you do."

"You?" His laugh, now, showed the drink he'd had. "Same as outside, just now, about letting people talk to me. Not the skipper, huh-or Dopples, or even Tzane.

Who put you on the throne?"

Getting mad, not wanting to show it, she said, "Parnell and Dopples-while they're off duty status the rest of us act for them. Consult with them, too, if you was wondering. And Tzane leaves you to me because she wants no part of you!" She caught her breath. "You got any more smart-a.s.s questions?"

No answer; for a moment he looked like a hurt child. Not thinking, Zelde said, "Carlo-what the h.e.l.l's got into you? You f.u.c.ked up your first promotion and was set back-and took it good, I thought. Then next time you started better, but pretty soon-well, you got like a spoiled brat. And now worse-a lot worse."

He sat, blinking; he drained his beer and snapped fingers at Vanny Hackter. She scurried to bring him another. Zelde shook her head. "Still got you somebody to boss, right? d.a.m.n it, Carlo-what's wrong? You been acting like the biggest dumba.s.s ever was-but 1 know you're not dumb. So who's been at you, Carlo? And what the h.e.l.l they been selling you?"

She thought he wasn't going to answer, but finally he did. "n.o.body had to sell me anything. As you said, I'm not stupid; I can figure things out. Like the way, ever since 231.

Escape, I've never had a fair chance on this ship-and whose fault that is!"

Straight at her, he was staring. Try a shot. "Is that what Franzel's been telling you?"

His face went blank. "I never heard of her."

Abruptly, Zelde motioned to Turk, and the two walked out.

"But why leave then!" Turk sounded puzzled. "He was just-"

"Just what?" Zelde thumped fist into palm. "You heard him-but was it a slip or a plant? I wanted out fast, to look at it, think on it-before anything more happened."

She stopped walking. "Think back-before he said that, how long did he wait? A little slowed with the drink, keep in mind. But did he give something away, before he thought, or did he say that on purpose?"

Turk shrugged. "I don't know him well enough to tell."

Again, Zelde started walking. "Me either." Eyes half-closed, she thought back- timing Mauragin's pause, then recalling his face when he spoke. She nodded. "He wasn't faking-not on such short notice, and drunk to boot."

"So?"

"So pa.s.s it to Torra Defose that Franzel's a woman, like as not." Her eyes burned; she blinked. "I'm going to catch some sleep."

"I'll see you to quarters." And more than that-Turk came in and made sure the place was empty. Zelde grinned. Tough deal, if I was having somebody in just now.

At the door, Turk said, "Call me when you're ready to go out next. I expect I'll be home by then."

"Sure." Turk left. Zelde showered, had a beer and some crackers, and went to bed.

Noise, not loud, woke her. At the door, someone rapping-two knocks, three, two more-pause and repeat. It didn't mean anything-was it supposed to? Squinting in dim light she fumbled for her robe and didn't find it. She shrugged and got up.

At the door, she said, "Yeah? What is it?"

"Message." She didn't know the voice.

"Who from? And what's wrong with the intercom?" Now she was coming awake better.

232.

"I was told you'd know. And the intercom's not secure."

From Defose, maybe? Zelde drew the bolt-and opened the door, only a little, to look out.

One glimpse she got-somebody small. And something shiny-then a gesture, and light exploded to blind her.

Something stung her side; the door banged against her. She gasped; eyes streaming while she saw only flashing glare, she braced herself and slammed back at the door. It didn't shut all the way-she heard a thunk on the deck, and pulled back and slammed again. A cry-pain, or anger? A third slam, and this time the door closed solidly. She found the bolt and set it, then felt around on the deck until she found what had fallen there.

A knife, it was-and where her side burned, blood ran. Still she couldn't see, but felt for the switch and turned up the lighting. Waiting, after a while she had some sight, and then more. Meanwhile she tried to rerun the one quick look she'd had at the knife artist.

Small, sure. Skinny? Maybe. Hair ragged-flat to the head with a few wisps outlined against the light. And-not clear-something funny about the face. Lopsided?

No clue to coloring-hair or face, either one. No point in putting out any kind of alert, on what she had. But the voice- yeah-a woman's.

With only dim floating lights now, in the way of seeing, she looked at her side. A long cut, through the fatty layer at deepest, and nicking the muscle-with her fingers she spread it wider, to see, to make sure it wasn't deeper. Bleeding enough to wash the wound clean-and mess up the deck, pretty soon-but nothing to worry about.

She used paper tissues to mop off the blood running down her hip, then blotted at the cut itself. She found the first-aid kit and got out dressings already coated with anti- infectant. It took two of those to close the cut all its length, and she pulled them up tight before pressing the upper halves to her skin. Yes-that should hold the edges to gether. She moved, flexing her body-it hurt, but not enough to bother. She washed off the rest of the blood, and got dressed.

Now she was hungry. The time? Too early to call Turk-so Zelde made do with more crackers, a packet of cheese, and a can of meat broth-the kind that heated itself when you opened it.

233.

Only two hours sleep, she'd had-but no hope of sleeping now. She lay down anyway-but then the intercom sounded. She answered and listened-then she gasped.

"I'll be right there!"

Ragir was alive! The place was wrecked-most of the complicated equipment smashed and scattered-but with Fesler working over him, Parnell raised a hand to greet her. The medic waved her back, and she saw tubes still protruding from her man's arm. All right-she could wait. But: "What the h.e.l.l . . . ?"

Fesler shook his head; it was Parnell who answered. "I heard something, looked up." Somebody bending over him, holding a hypo. Told him to shut up-a woman's voice, it was. He tried to move away, but couldn't-and for an instant, in light from the doorway, he saw the intruder. Now he coughed. "Water?"

His was spilled; Zelde brought some from the next room. Parnell sipped, then spoke again. "That face I won't forget. Slabsided-the nose bent to one side. No one I'd ever seen before-which, here on the ship, puzzles me." Same one came after me-it has to be!

Fesler pulled a tube from Parnell's arm; the captain winced. "Is that the last of it?"

The medic nodded, and Parnell went on with his story. The woman had tripped over a cable and knocked down part of his support system-he yelled, and swung the water pitcher at her head. "My bad shoulder, I had to use-it could stand a shot, Fesler, when you have time."

"Sure, skipper-but first I had to patch the leaks." "Yes." The woman had pulled back, hands empty now, and scrabbled on the deck-for the hypo, probably. Parnell heard someone coming-Fesler, as it turned out. "She did, too, I suppose-she got up and began tearing the apparatus apart. Tried to hit me with part of it, but a cable snubbed it and she missed."

"And that's about the time," said Fesler, "that I came in one door, just in time to see the other one slam in my face."

"Right," said Parnell. "Very welcome you were, too." He frowned. "One thing I just remembered. She favored her right hand-used the left one almost entirely."

Zelde's laugh surprised her; Parnell stared. "It's-well, 234.

the right hand, I slammed the door on it a couple of times. When she tried for me a few minutes ago." She told it fast-how she'd been caught half asleep-and shook her head. "Busy b.i.t.c.h, that one is."

Parnell tried to raise his head. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, sure." She gestured. "Caught me along the side with her knife-my knife now-but not deep." Fesler looked worried. "No, really-I looked close and washed it out careful, and bandaged it shut, good. You can look later if you want, Fesler-but I been cut worse with no help, and healed up okay."

"If you say so." Fesler checked a final dressing on Par-nell's arm, and straightened up. "Skipper-given the choice, I'd have left you on the plumbing another day or two.

I'll dig out replacements for the equipment, of course, but I think you're stable. And for now, safer in your quarters than you were here."

Zelde snorted. "Like I was?"

"You were off guard," said Parnell. "From now on- until that creature is caught- we'll both know better."

"That one? And maybe more." But Zelde nodded. "All right. Fesler, you putting an aide on duty with Parnell? Or can he and I take care of him, yet?"

"I'll a.s.sign someone-you can manage, I think, until I get schedules rearranged."

He left the room briefly, and came back with a tray of bottles-pills and liquids, both- and a clipboard. "Captain, the galley has your prescribed meal chart. Order food when you want it-and try to eat hearty; you've lost weight." Then to Zelde: "Here's the medication schedule. You see that it's followed."

"Hear that, Ragir?" Parnell nodded. "Then all right."

"There's one thing," said Fesler. "Changing from IV drugs to pills, for pain.

There's a lot of that stuff in your blood right now, skipper-so take no pain pills until, say, ten hundred hours tomorrow. And then only half-dosage for that day.

Clear?"

"Very," said Parnell. He cleared his throat. "There was something said, though, about a shot for my shoulder." And Zelde saw the beads of sweat on his upper lip and forehead.

"Of course," and Fesler gave the injection. "Now, I think, you're ready to go. I'll get a stretcher, and we'll move you."