Alien Emergencies - James White [154]
By packing the litter and strapping casualties, sometimes two to a couch in the crew’s positions, Haslam was able to lift just over half of the remaining survivors. There was no change in the condition of the remaining casualties. The shadow of the outcropping had lengthened, though the air was still warm; the sky remained clear and there was no wind. Murchison said that she could usefully spend the time until the lander returned investigating, so far as she was able with her portable equipment, the large DCOJ cadaver they had left in the wreck. The medium-sized DCMH survivor had gone up with Haslam.
It was obvious from the start that Fletcher found the dissection distasteful, and when Murchison told him that there was enough light for the work from the helmet spots of Conway and herself, he left quickly and began climbing among the containers fastened to the now-vertical deck beside them. After about fifteen minutes he reported that his scanner showed the contents to be identical and, judging by the amount of packing used, were almost certainly cargo rather than ship’s stores. He added that he intended moving into the corridor outside the hold to explore, look for other casualties, and gather evidence.
“Do you have to do it now, Captain?” Murchison said worriedly, looking up. Conway turned to regard Fletcher, too, but somehow his eyes did not rise above the level of the other’s waist and the weapon attached to it.
“Do you know, Captain,” he said quietly, “you have been wearing a sidearm ever since Rhabwar’s first mission, and I’ve barely noticed it? It was just a part of your uniform, like the cap and insignia. Now it looks even more conspicuous than your backpack.”
Fletcher looked uncomfortable as he said, “We’re taught that the psychological effect of displaying a weapon is negligible among the law-abiding, but increases in direct proportion to the guilt or harmful intentions of the criminal or potential lawbreaker. However, the effect of my weapon was purely psychological until Lieutenant Haslam brought down the charges for it a few minutes ago.” Defensively he added, “There was no need to wear a loaded weapon on an ambulance ship, and I’d no reason to believe that this would be a police operation.”
Murchison laughed softly and returned to her work, and Conway joined her. As the Captain turned to go, he said, “We can’t spend much time here, but I must make as full a report as possible of the incident and alt relevant circumstances. This is a new species to the Federation, a different technology, and the purpose of this ship might have a bearing on the case. Was our criminal a responsible being, perhaps a captive, or an unintelligent animal? If it was intelligent was it deranged, and if so why? And was the distressed condition of the ship and crew a contributory factor? I know that it is difficult to conceive of extenuating circumstances for grievous wounding and cannibalism, but until all the facts are known—”
He broke off and placed his sensor against the deck beside him. A few seconds later he went on, “There is nothing other than ourselves moving inside the wreck. I’ve left the outside hatch open only a few inches. If anything tried to get in you will have plenty of warning, either from the beastie itself forcing it open against the sand or from the sensors on Rhabwar. I can get back to you in plenty of time in any case, so you have nothing to worry about.”
While they resumed the dissection they could follow every step of the Captain’s progress sternward, because he insisted on verbally describing and amplifying the pictures he was sending up to Dodds. The corridor was low and not very roomy by Earth-human standards, he reported. He had to crawl on hands and knees and it would be difficult to turn around to come back other than at an intersection. Cable looms and air or hydraulic pipelines ran along