Planet Pirates Omnibus Part 27

"There will be time enough, if you come back to me."

"I will," Lunzie said. "Just as soon as things are settled with Fiona, I'll come back. Dr. Root said that he'd sponsor me as a resident - that is, if he'll still speak to me after my subterfuge to get a night off!"

"If he knew the truth, he'd forgive you. Shall I make us some supper?"

"No. I'm too comfortable to move. Hold me."

Tee drew Lunzie's head onto his chest, and the two of them relaxed together. As Lunzie started to drop off to sleep, the com-unit began chuckling quietly to itself. She sat up to answer it.

"Ignore it until morning," Tee said, pulling her back into bed. "Remember, you have a family emergency. I have asked for travel brochures from all the cruise lines and merchant ships which will pa.s.s between Astris and Alpha Centauri over the next six months. We can look over them all in the morning. I do not see you off gladly, but I want you to go safely. We will choose the best of them all, for you."

Lunzie glanced at the growing heap of plastic folders sliding out of the printer, and wondered how she'd ever begin to sort through the ma.s.s. "Just the soonest. That will be good enough for me."

Tee shook his head. "None are good enough for you. But the sooner you go, the sooner you may return. Two years or three, they will seem as that many hundred until we meet again. But think about it in the morning. For once, for one night, there is only we two alone in the galaxy."

Lunzie fell asleep with the sound of Tee's heart-beat under her cheek, and felt content.

In the morning, they sat on the floor among a litter of holographic travel advertis.e.m.e.nts, sorting them into three categories: Unsuitable, Inexpensive, and Short Voyage.

The Unsuitable ones Tee immediately stuffed into the printer's return slot, where the emulsion would be wiped and the plastic melted down so it could be reused in future facsimile transmissions. Glamorous holographs, usually taken of the dining room, the entertainment complex, or the shopping arcades of each line's vessels, hung in the air, as Tee and Lunzie compared price, comfort, and schedule. Lunzie looked most closely at the ones which they designated Inexpensive, while Tee paged through those promising Short Voyages.

Of the sixty or so brochures still under consideration, Tee's favourite was the Destiny Destiny Calls Calls, a compound liner from the Destiny Cruise Lines.

"It is the fastest of all. It makes only three ports of call between here and Alpha Centauri over five months." Lunzie took one look at the fine print on the plas-sheet under the hologram and blanched. "It's too expensive! Look at those prices. Even the least expensive inside cabin is a year's pay."

"They feed, house, and entertain you for five months," Tee said, reasonably. "Not a bad return after taxes."

"No, it won't do. How about the Caravan Voyages' Cymbeline Cymbeline? It's much cheaper." Lunzie pointed to another brochure decorated with more modest photography. "I don't need all those amenities the Destiny Calls Destiny Calls has. Look, they offer you free the services of a personal psychotherapist, and your choice of a ma.s.sage mattress or a trained ma.s.seuse. Ridiculous!" has. Look, they offer you free the services of a personal psychotherapist, and your choice of a ma.s.sage mattress or a trained ma.s.seuse. Ridiculous!"

"But they are so slow," Tee complained. "You did not want to wait for a merchant to make orbit because of all the stops he would make on the way; you do not want this. If you would pretend that money does not matter for just a moment, it would horrify your efficient soul to find that the Cymbeline Cymbeline takes thirteen months to take you where the takes thirteen months to take you where the Destiny Calls Destiny Calls does in five. And it will not be as comfortable. Come now, think," he said in a wheedling tone. "What about your idea to work your way there on the voyage? Then the question of expense will not come up." does in five. And it will not be as comfortable. Come now, think," he said in a wheedling tone. "What about your idea to work your way there on the voyage? Then the question of expense will not come up."

Lunzie was attracted by the idea of travelling on a compound liner, which had quarters for methane- and water-breathers, as well as ordinary oxygen-nitrogen breathers. "Well. ..."

Tee could tell by her face she was more than half persuaded already. "If you are taking a luxury cruise, why not the best? You will meet many interesting people, eat wonderful food, and have a very good time. Do not even think how much I will be missing you."

She laughed ruefully. "Well, all right then. Let's call them and see if they have room for me." Tee called the com-unit code for the Destiny Line to inquire for package deals on travels. While he was chatting with a salesclerk, he asked very casually if they needed a ship's medical officer for human pa.s.sengers.

To Lunzie's delight and relief, they responded with alacrity that they did. Their previous officer had gone ash.o.r.e at the ship's last port of call, and they hadn't had time to arrange for a replacement. Tee instantly transmitted a copy of Lunzie's credentials and references, which were forwarded to the personnel department. She was asked to come in that day for interviews with the cruise office, the captain of the ship and the chief medical officer by FTL comlink, which Lunzie felt went rather well. She was hired. The ship would make orbit around Astris Alexandria in less than a month to pick her up.

Chapter Six.

"Please, gentlebeings, pay attention. This information may save your life one day."

There was a general groan throughout the opulent dining room as the human steward went through his often-recited lecture on s.p.a.ce safety and evacuation plans. He pointed out the emergency exits which led to the lifeboats moored inside vacuum hatches along the port and starboard sides of the luxury s.p.a.ce liner Destiny Calls Destiny Calls. Holographic displays to his right and left demonstrated how the emergency atmosphere equipment was to be used by the numerous humanoid and non-humanoid races who were aboard the Destiny Destiny.

None of the lavishly dressed diners in the Early Seating for Oxygen-Breathers seemed to be watching him except for a clutch of frightened-looking humanoid bipeds with huge eyes and pale gray skin whom Lunzie recognized from her staff briefing as Stribans. Most were far more interested in the moving holographic centrepieces of their tables, which displayed such wonders as bouquets of flowers maturing in minutes from bud to bloom, a black-and-silver-clad being doing magic tricks, or, as at Lunzie's table, a sculptor chipping away with hammer and chisel at an alabaster statue. The steward raised his voice to be heard over the murmuring, but the murmuring just got louder. She had to admit that the young man projected well, and he had a pleasant voice, but the talk was the same, word for word, that was given on every ship that lifted, and any frequent traveller could have recited it along with him. He finished with an ironic "Thank you for your attention."

"Well, thank the stars that's over!" stated Retired Admiral Coromell, in a voice loud enough for the steward to hear. There were t.i.tters from several of the surrounding tables. "n.o.body listens to the dam-fool things anyway. Only time you can get 'em together is at mealtimes. Captive audience. The ones who seek out the information on their own are the ones who ought to survive anyway. Those nitwits who wait for somebody to save them are as good as dead anyhow." He turned back to his neglected appetiser and took a spoonful of sliced fruit and sweetened grains. The young man gathered up his demonstration gear and retired to a table at the back of the room, looking hara.s.sed. "Where was I?" the old man demanded.

Lunzie put down her spoon and leaned over to shout at him. "You were in the middle of the engagement with the Green Force from the Antari civil war."

"So I was. No need to raise your voice." At great length and corresponding volume, the Admiral related his adventure to the seven fellow pa.s.sengers at his table. Coromell was a large man who must have been powerfully built in his youth. His curly hair, though crisp white, was still thick. Pedantically, he tended to repeat the statistics of each manoeuvre two or three times to make sure the others understood them, whether or not they were interested in his narrative. He finished his story with a great flourish for his victory, just in time for the service of the soup course, which arrived at that moment. Lunzie was surprised to see just how much of the service was handled by individual beings, instead of by servomechanisms and food-synth hatches in the middle of the tables. Clearly, the cruise directors wanted to emphasise how special each facet of their preparations was, down to the ingredients of each course. Even if the ingredients were synthesised out of sight in the kitchen, personal service made the customers think the meals were being prepared from imported spices and produce gathered from exotic ports of call all over the galaxy. In fact, Lunzie had toured the storerooms when she first came aboard, and was more impressed than her tablemates that morel mushrooms were served as the centrepiece in the salad course, since she alone knew that they were real.

The diverse and ornamental menu was a microcosm of the ship itself. The variety of accommodation available on the huge vessel was broad, extending from tiny economy cla.s.s cabins deep inside the ship, along narrow corridors, to entire suites of elegant chambers which had broad portholes looking out into s.p.a.ce, and were served by elaborate Tri-D entertainment facilities and had their own staffs of servitors.

Lunzie found the decor in her personal cabin fantastic, all the more so because she was only a crew member, one of several physicians on board the Destiny Destiny. It was explained to her by the purser that guests might need her services when she was not on a duty shift. The illusion of endless opulence was not to be spoiled at any price, even to the cost of maintaining the doctors in a luxury surrounding, lest the rich pa.s.sengers glimpse any evidence of economy. This way was cheaper than dealing with the consequences of their potential distress. Lunzie was surprised to discover that the entertainment system in her quarters was as fancy as the ones in the first-cla.s.s cabins. There was a wet bar filled with genuine vintage distillations, as well as a drink synthesiser.

The computer outlet in the adjoining infirmary was preprogrammed with a constantly updating medical profile of all crew members and guests. Though she was unlikely to serve a non-humanoid guest, she was provided with a complete set of environment suits in her size, appropriate to each of the habitats provided for methane-breathers, water-breathers, or ultra cold- or hot-loving species, and language translators for each.

Dr. Root would have loved the infirmary. It had every single gadget she had seen listed in the medical supplies catalog. Her own bod bird and gimmick-kit were superfluous among the array of gadgets, so she left them in her suitcase in the cabin locker. She was filled with admiration for the state-of-the-art chemistry lab, which she shared with the other eight medical officers. The Destiny Destiny had remained in orbit for six days around Astris after taking on Lunzie and fifteen other crew, so she had had plenty of time to study the profiles of her fellow employees and guests. The files made fascinating reading. The cruise line was taking no chances on emergencies in transit, and their health questionnaires were comprehensive. As soon as a new pa.s.senger came aboard, a full profile was netted to each doctor's personal computer console. had remained in orbit for six days around Astris after taking on Lunzie and fifteen other crew, so she had had plenty of time to study the profiles of her fellow employees and guests. The files made fascinating reading. The cruise line was taking no chances on emergencies in transit, and their health questionnaires were comprehensive. As soon as a new pa.s.senger came aboard, a full profile was netted to each doctor's personal computer console.

Lunzie turned to Baraki Don, the Admiral's personal aide, a handsome man in his seventh or eighth decade whose silver hair waved above surprisingly bright blue eyes and black eyebrows. "I'm not suggesting that I should do the procedure, but shouldn't he have his inner ear rebuilt? Shouting at his listeners is usually a sign that his own hearing is failing. I believe the Admiral's file mentioned that he's over a hundred Standard years old."

Don waved away the suggestion with a look of long suffering. "Age has nothing to do with it. He's always bellowed like that. You could hear him clear down in engineering without an intercom from the bridge."

"What an old bore," one of their tablemates said, in a rare moment when the Admiral was occupied with his food. She was a Human woman with black- and green-streaked hair styled into a huge puff, and clad in a fantastic silver dress that clung to her frame.

Lunzie merely smiled. "It's fascinating what the Admiral has seen in his career."

"If any of it is true," the woman said with a sniff. She took a taste of fruit and made a face. "Ugh, how awful."

"But you've only to look at all the medals on his tunic front. I'm sure that they aren't all for good conduct and keeping his gear in order," Lunzie said and gave vent to a wicked impulse. "What's the green metal one with the double star for. Admiral?"

The Admiral aimed his keen blue gaze at Lunzie, who was all polite attention. The green-haired woman groaned unbelievingly. Coromell smiled, touching the tiny decoration in the triple line of his chest.

"Young lady, that might interest you as you're a medical specialist. I commanded a scout team ordered to deliver serum to Denby XI. Seems an explorer was grounded there, and they started one by one to come down with a joint ailment that was crippling them. Most of 'em were too weak to move when we got there. Our scientists found that trace elements were present in the dust that they were bringing in on their atmosphere suits that irritated the connective tissue, caused fever and swelling, and eventually, death. Particles were so small they sort of fell right through the skin. We, too, had a couple cases of the itch before it was all cleaned up. n.o.body was that sick, but they gave us all medals. That also reminds me of the Casper mission ..."

The woman turned her eyes to the ceiling in disgust and took a sniff from the carved perfume bottle at her wrist. A heady wave of scent rolled across the table, and the other patrons coughed. Lunzie gave her a pitying look. There must be something about privilege and wealth that made one bored with life. And Coromell had lived such an amazing one. If only half of what he said was true, he was a hero many times over.

The black-coated chief server appeared at the head of the dining hall and tapped a tiny silver bell with a porcelain clapper. "Gentlebeings, honoured pa.s.sengers, the dessert!"

"Hey, what?" The announcement interrupted Coromell in full spate, to the relief of some of the others at the table. He waited as a server helped him to a plate of dainty cakes, and took a tentative bite. He levelled his fork at the dessert and boomed happily at his aide. "See here, Don, these are delicious."

"They have Gurnsan pastry chefs in the kitchen." Lunzie smiled at him as she took a forkful of a luscious cream pastry. He was more interesting than anyone she'd ever met or had seen on Tri-D. She realised that he was just a few years older than she was. Perhaps he had read Kipling or Service in his youth.

"Well, well, very satisfactory, I must say. Beats the black hole out of Fleet food, doesn't it, Don?"

"Yes, indeed. Admiral."

"Well, well. Well, well," the Admiral murmured to himself between bites, as their tablemates finished their meals and left.

"I should go, too," Lunzie said, excusing herself and preparing to rise. "I've got to hold after-dinner office hours."

The Admiral looked up from his plate and the corners of his eyes crinkled up wisely at her. "Tell me, young doctor. Were you listening because you were interested, or just to humour an old man? I noticed that green-haired female popinjay myself."

"I truly enjoyed hearing your experiences, Admiral," Lunzie said sincerely. "I come from a long line of Fleet career officers."

Coromell was pleased. "Do you! You must join us later. We always have a liqueur in the holo-room during second shift. You can tell us about your family."

"I'd be honoured." Lunzie smiled, and hurried away.

"That's nasty," Lunzie said, peeling away the pantsleg of a human engineer and probing at the bruised flesh above and below the knee. She poked an experimental finger at the side of the patella and frowned.

"Agh!" grunted the engineer, squirming away. "That hurt."

"It isn't dislocated, Perkin," Lunzie a.s.sured him, lowering the sonic viewscreen over the leg. "Let's see now." On the screen, the bone and tendons stood out among a dark ma.s.s of muscle. Tiny lines, veins and arteries throbbed as blood pulsed along them. Near the knee, the veins swelled and melded with one another, distended abnormally. "But if you think it's pretty now, wait a day or so. There's quite a bit of intramuscular bleeding. You didn't do that in an ordinary fall - the bone's bruised, too. How did it happen?" Lunzie reached under the screen to turn his leg for a different view, and curiously watched the muscles twist on the backs of her skeletal hands. This was state-of-the-art equipment.

"Off the record. Doctor?" Perkin asked hesitantly, looking around the examination room.

Lunzie looked around too, then stared at the man's face, trying to discern what was making him so nervous. "It shouldn't be, but if that's the only way you'll tell me ..."

The man let go a deep sigh of relief. "Off the record, then. I got my leg pinched in a storage hatch door. It shut on me without warning. The thing is six meters tall and almost fifteen centimeters thick. There should have been a klaxon and flashing lights. Nothing."

"Who disconnected them?" Lunzie asked, suddenly and irrationally worried about heavyworlders. Perhaps there was a plot afoot to attack the Admiral.

"No one had to. Doctor. Don't you know about the Destiny Cruise Line? It's owned by the Paraden Company."

Lunzie shook her head. "I don't know anything about them, to be honest. I think I've heard the name before, but that's all. I'm a temporary employee, until we pull into orbit around Alpha Centauri, four months from now. Why, what's wrong with the Paraden Company?"

The engineer curled his lip. "I sure hope this room hasn't got listening devices. The Paraden Company keeps their craft in s.p.a.ce as long as it possibly can without drydocking them. Minor maintenance gets done, but major things get put off until someone complains. And that someone always gets fired."

"That sounds horribly unfair." Lunzie was shocked.

"Not to mention hazardous to living beings, Lunzie. Well, whistle-blowing has never been a safe practice. They're Parchandris, the family who owns the company, and they want to squeeze every hundredth credit out of their a.s.sets. The Destiny Line is just a tiny part of their holdings."

Lunzie had heard of the Parchandri. They had a reputation for miserliness. "Are you suggesting that this starship isn't s.p.a.ceworthy?" she asked nervously. Now she was looking for listening devices.

Perkin sighed. "It probably is. It most likely is. But it's long overdue for service. It should have stayed back on Alpha the last time we were there. The portmaster was reluctant to let us break orbit. That's been bad for morale, I can tell you. We old-timers don't usually tell the new crew our troubles - we're afraid that either they're company spies working for Lady Paraden, or they'll be too frightened to stay on board."

"Well, if anything goes wrong, you'll be sure to warn me, won't you?" She noticed that his face suddenly wore a shuttered look. "Oh, please," she appealed to him. "I'm not a spy. I'm on my way to see my daughter. We haven't seen each other since she was a youngster. I don't want anything to get in the way of that. I've already been in one s.p.a.ce accident."

"Now, now," Perkin said soothingly. "Lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place."

"Unless you're a lightning rod!"

Perkin relaxed, a little ashamed for having distrusted her. "I'll keep you informed, Lunzie. You may count on it. But what about my leg here?"

She pointed to the discolouration on his skin. "Well then, except for the aurora borealis, and no one need know about that but you and your roommate, there will be nothing to draw attention to your er, mishap," Lunzie said, reseating his magnetic seams. "There's no permanent damage of any kind. The leg will be stiff for a while until the haematoma subsides, and there might be some pain. If the pain gets too bad, take the a.n.a.lgesic which I'm programming into your cabin synthesiser, but no more than once a shift."

"Make me high, will it?" the engineer asked, pushing himself off the table with extra care for his sore leg.

"A little. But more importantly, it will stop up your bowels better than an oatmeal-and-banana sandwich," Lunzie answered, her eyes dancing merrily. "I never prescribe that mix for young Seti. They have enough problems with human-dominated menus as it is."

Perkin chuckled. "So they do. I had one working for me once. He was always suffering. The cooks grew senna for him. Didn't know much about him other than that. They're the most private species I've ever known."

"If you like, I'll also give you a liniment to rub in your leg following a good hot soak."

"Thank you, Lunzie." Perkin accepted the plastic packet Lunzie handed him and slipped out the door past the next patient waiting to see the doctor.

After that day, Lunzie began to notice things about the ship which weren't quite right. It was hard to tell under all the ornamentation, but the clues were there for eyes paying attention. Perkin was right about the lack of maintenance on ship's systems. There was a persistent leak in the decks around the methane environment, which made various pa.s.sengers complain of the smell in the hallway near the fitness center. Perkin and the other engineers shrugged as they put one more temporary seal on the cracks, and promised to keep the problem under control until they made the next port with repair facilities, months away at Alpha Centauri.

Lunzie began to worry whether there was a chance that the ship might fail somewhere en route to Alpha Centauri. The odds of meeting with a s.p.a.ce accident twice in a lifetime were in the millions, but it still niggled at her. It couldn't happen to her again, could it? She hoped Perkin was exaggerating his concerns. With an uncomfortable feeling that ill fate was just past the next benchmark, Lunzie started listening more intently to the evacuation instructions. True to her word, she didn't mention Perkin's confidences to anyone else, but she kept her eyes open.

Seating arrangements in the dining room had been changed over the course of the last month. Lunzie, Admiral Coromell, and Baraki Don had been given seats at the Captain's table, presided over at the early seating by the First Mate. This was a distinguished woman of colour who was probably of an age with Commander Don. First Mate Sharu was very small of stature. The top of her head was on a level with Lunzie's chin. Sharu wore a snugly cut long evening dress of the same regimental purple as her uniform. Her military bearing suggested that she had been in the service before coming to Destiny Cruise Lines. The ornate gold braid at the wrist of the single sleeve showed her rank, and hid a small, powerful communicator, which she employed to keep in touch with the ship's bridge during the meal. The other arm, which bore a brilliantly cut diamond bangle, was bare to the shoulder. To Lunzie's delight, Sharu, too, loved a good yarn, so Coromell had a responsive audience for his tales.

Not that he appeared to appreciate it. He was still grouchy at times, and occasionally snapped at them for humouring an old man. After a while, Lunzie stopped protesting her innocence and turned the tables on him.

"Maybe I am just humouring you," she told Coromell airily, who stopped in full harangue and glared at her in surprise. "I've gone to school lectures where there was more of a dialogue than you allow. We have opinions, too. Once in a while I'd like to voice one."

"Heh, heh, heh! Methinks I do protest too much, eh?" Coromell chortled approvingly. "That's Shakespeare, for all you beings too young to have read any. Well, well. Perhaps I'm at the age when I'm at the mercy of my environment, in a world for which I have insufficient say any more, and I don't like it. Rather like those poor heavyworlder creatures, wouldn't you say?"

Lunzie perked up immediately at the phrase. "What about the heavyworlders. Admiral?"

"Had a few serving under me in my last command. When was that, eight, ten years ago, Don?"

"Fourteen, Admiral." Coromell thrust his jaw out and counted the years on the ceiling. "So it was. d.a.m.n those desk jobs. They make you lose all track of intervening time. Heavyworlders! Bad idea, that. Shouldn't adapt people to worlds. You should adapt worlds to people. What G.o.d intended, after all!"

"Terraforming takes too long. Admiral," Sharu put in, reasonably. "The worlds the heavyworlders live on are good for human habitation, except for the gravity. They were created to adapt to that."

"Yes, created! Created a minority, that's what they did," the Admiral sputtered. "We have enough trouble in politics with partisanship anyway. Just when you have all the subgroups there are already getting used to each other, you throw in another one, and start the whole mess over. You've got people screaming about that Phoenix disaster, saying that the heavyworlders were dancing on the graves of the lightweights who were there before 'em, but you can bet they paid a hefty finder's fee to whoever helped them make landfall - probably a goodly percentage of their export income to boot."

"I've heard that planet pirates destroyed the first settlement," Lunzie said, angrily remembering the anguished two years she had spent believing that Fiona had been one of the dead on Phoenix.

"Doctor, you may believe it. Probably they cut off Phoenix's communications with the outside first, destroying their support system, traders and so on. Soon as a planet's population can't take care of itself, the rights go to the next group who can. My ship got the mayday from a merchant ship being chased by a pirate outside of the Eridani system. They had been damaged pretty heavily, but they were still hauling ions when we came on the scene. My communications officer kept up chatter with their bridge for three weeks until we could come to the rescue. Lose your spirit, lose the war, that's what I say!"

"Did you capture the pirate?" Lunzie asked eagerly, leaning forward.

The Admiral shook his head regretfully. "Sunspots, no. That'd have been a pretty star on my bow if we had. We engaged them as they streaked after the merchant ship, exchanging fire. That poor little merchant begged heaven's blessings down on us, and scooted! The pirate had no choice. He couldn't turn his back on me again. My ship was holed, but no lives were lost. The pirate wasn't so lucky. I saw hull plates and other debris shoot away from the body of his ship, and the frayed edges curled, imploded! Must have been an atmosphered chamber, which meant crew. I hope to heaven it didn't mean prisoners.

"Whatever they had in their engines, ours was better. We chased them outside the system into the radiation belt, we chased them past comets. Finally, my gunner struck their port engine. They spiralled in circles for a couple of turns, and got back on a steady course, but my gunner hit them again. Dead in the water. As soon as we relayed to them that we were going to board them with a prize crew, they blew themselves up!" The Admiral held out his hands before him, cupping air. "I had them like this, so close! No captain has ever succeeded in capturing a planet pirate. But I flatter myself, that if I couldn't, no man can."

"You do flatter yourself. Admiral," Sham remarked flippantly. "But most likely, you're right."

Lunzie still joined the Admiral and his aide in the holo-room during the evenings after she held infirmary call. Coromell had two favourite holos he requested in the alcove in which he and Don spent the hours before turning in. The first was the bridge of his flagship, the Federation Federation. The second appeared when Lunzie suspected that Coromell was in a pensive mood. It was a roaring fireplace with a broad tiled hearth and an ornamented copper hood set in a stone-and-brick wall.

The quality hologram system was equipped with temperature and olfactory controls as well as visual display. She could smell the burning hardwoods and feel the heat of the flames as she took a seat in the third of the deep, cushiony armchairs furnished in the alcove. Don stood up as she approached, and signalled a server to bring her a drink. As she suspected, Coromell sat bent with one elbow on his knee and a balloon gla.s.s in the other hand, staring into the dance of shadows and lights and listening to the soft music playing in the background. He hadn't noticed her arrive. Lunzie waited a little while, watching him. He looked pensive and rather sad.