Ascending - James Alan Gardner [80]
One more whump and the top of the door snapped out of its frame. It sagged slightly inward, but not far enough to reveal who was hammering on the other side. I quickly assumed an aggressive stance in case the intruders should prove to be enemies—perhaps the Shaddill had invaded the ship now that we had no defenses. Festina, however, had put down her fists, and Aarhus was making no effort to prepare for attack. They simply stood warily, clear of the doorway, waiting for whoever came through.
Something struck the door with a fierce thud. The mangled metal could not withstand this final impact—it collapsed completely, propelled by a muscular body that fell forward with the door onto the floor tiles.
Lajoolie looked up, blinking in the beam of Festina’s light. Behind her, Uclod and Dr. Havel peeked around the edge of the door frame; the watery-eyed physician held a shining wand exactly like Festina’s. Smiling down at Lajoolie, Havel said, “Nothing like a Tye-Tye, ha-ha, when you have to make a house call. Someone reported a poisoning?”
Medical Matters
The doctor hurried off to examine the woman in brown…or perhaps I should call her Zuni, though I do not know if she deserves to be dignified with a name. This Zuni was a spy and saboteur; I did not quite understand what she had tried to do or what she accomplished instead, but the end result was readily apparent. There was no light in the hallway, and no machinery sounds either. “It appears,” said I, “this vessel has slain itself.”
“Yes,” Havel called from the other side of the computer bank, “the Hemlock has taken hemlock, ha-ha.”
If that was a joke, no one laughed. I asked, “Do all star-ships have suicidal tendencies? Because I have only ridden in two such vessels, and both have killed themselves within hours of my coming on board. This constitutes a Disturbing Pattern…and I should like to point out I am not to blame.”
“Don’t get defensive,” Festina said, patting my shoulder. “If anyone here is a trouble magnet, it’s me.”
She turned to check on the others. Uclod was helping Lajoolie stand up after bashing the door. He did not provide much practical assistance—since his head only came to her wallabies, he could not actually pull her up to her full height—but she held on to his hand anyway and tried not to look too encumbered by him as she got to her feet.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Uclod asked. His voice had a ragged edge to it and his eyes were ringed with red, but it seemed he had finished weeping over his grandmother…at least for the moment. Lajoolie did not answer the little man’s question, but she pressed his hand softly to her stomach.
“All right,” Festina said, “let’s get to the bridge and see what the captain can do about this mess. Havel,” she called, “do you need any help?”
“No, Admiral, not right now,” came a reply from the other side of the computer bank. “Eventually we’ll have to carry the patient to sick bay…”
“I’ll send you some stretcher bearers,” Festina said, “but I don’t know if sick bay is any better than here. Captain’s Last Act will have killed all your medical equipment.”
“Oh dear, yes,” Havel said. “Then maybe, ha-ha, it’s best if we stay away from the infirmary. The place is swarming with Analysis Nano, and without the ship-soul controlling them…well, the eager little devils may get out of hand. There was a case on Morrikeen where a clinic’s power went down and every last nanite decided to give the attending physician a blood test. Sucked the poor fellow dry, ha-ha.”
“Ha-ha indeed,” Festina said. “And here I thought our only alternatives were freezing to death or starvation. I love it when new options thrust themselves forward.” She made a face. “Come on—let’s find the captain.”
Forging Forward
It turns out a starship has many many doors…which Sergeant Aarhus claimed were not doors at all but hatches. Festina said I could still call them doors; she reveled in the use of antinautical terms, because it vexed the ship’s normal crew. (She called regular crew members