Expendable - James Alan Gardner [18]
But he slunk back into the infirmary for his trousers.
Our Advantage
While the admiral was gone, Yarrun returned from the weapons locker. His eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders sagged.
“Cheer up,” I told him.
“Why?”
“It’s an order.”
“Oh.”
He slumped heavily onto the wall beside me. I think we were both tired enough to be glad we had something solid to lean against.
“So what now?” he asked.
“I talked to the admiral. He suggests a few minutes of planning in the galley, then sleep.”
Yarrun stood a little straighter. “That sounds more…lucid…than I expected from the admiral.”
“Chee is lucid,” I replied. “Unstable and too damned whimsical, but I think he’s healthier than the High Council suspects. Healthier on the mental scales, anyway. Physically…well, it’s interesting that Harque and Prope are still in talking with Veresian. I suspect the good doctor found some medical condition that should legally keep the admiral out of any Landing party, and the captain is trying to convince Veresian to keep his opinions to himself.”
“Who’ll win?”
“Not us.”
“Mmm.”
Silence. The growing dizziness/giddiness of fatigue came sneaking into my brain, and it was only when Yarrun started speaking that I jerked out of near-sleep.
“If we look at this coldly,” Yarrun said, “Chee’s health is immaterial. He’s strong enough to survive another twenty-four hours, and that’s more than enough to get down and back…if we manage to get back. But the more clearheaded he is, the better for us.”
“He’ll be less of a burden, if that’s what you mean.”
“More importantly, he’s an admiral. And the High Council of Admirals may be the only people who know anything about Melaquin. Chee is a potential source of information.”
“Teams have landed with admirals before,” I reminded him. “It hasn’t helped them.”
“But if our theory is correct, most of those admirals have been senile,” Yarrun replied. “Our advantage is that this one still has brains we can pick.”
The infirmary door swished open again and Chee skittered out. He had put on the top half of his gray uniform, but the trousers were slung over one shoulder; instead, he wore the baggy mauve pants used during surgery. He also wore a surgeon’s mauve cap and thin rubber gloves. “Look at this great stuff!” he beamed.
I turned back to Yarrun. “Pick his brains fast—the crop’s rotting on the vine.”
The Admiral Proves His Sentience
[Conversation on the way to the galley.]
Chee: Do I really get to wear an Explorer suit?
Me: Yes, Admiral.
Chee: With the vanes sticking out the back and everything?
Me: Those are for ice planets. Melaquin is temperate, isn’t it?
Chee: Of course.
Yarrun: Are you sure?
Chee: If you want to get technical, it’s cold on the tips, hot in the middle, and temperate in between. But compared to ice planets and infernos, it’s shirt-sleeve weather from pole to pole.
Yarrun: Then the admiral has some knowledge about Melaquin?
Chee: Some.
Me: Do you have any…insights into what we might find there?
Chee: Insights? Why should I have insights?
Me: The Admiralty has sent a lot of parties to Melaquin. Considering that you’re an admiral….
Chee: Ramos, are you suggesting I would knowingly send a human being to her death?
Me: Not in so many words.
Chee: Look, you two: the League of Peoples classifies murderers as non-sentients, right?
Me: Murdering a sentient is a non-sentient act, yes.
Chee: A dangerous non-sentient act, Explorer.
Me: Yes, sir.
Chee: And what’s the penalty imposed by the League for taking a dangerous non-sentient into interstellar space?
Yarrun: Immediate execution of everyone who knowingly participates.
Chee: Have you ever heard of humans fooling the League? Smuggling killers, lethal weapons, or dangerous animals into open space?
Me: No.
Chee: And you won’t, either. Damned if we know how they do it, but take it from me, the League’s quarantine against homicide is absolute—a law of the universe, more certain than entropy. Am I here?
Me: Of course.
Chee: Then I never ordered anyone