Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [141]
Kell reacted to Grinder’s motion and the others looked. “Ah,” said Phanan. “He’s awake. I won’t have to amputate.”
Grinder half rose in alarm. “Amputate what?”
“Well, it’s your head that seems to be malfunctioning.”
Grinder cautiously felt his face to make sure there was nothing remaining of the insect. “Don’t joke. I was attacked.”
Wedge asked, “By what?”
“A Storini Crystal Deceiver. It’s an insect. Something like a Glass Prowler, but a lot deadlier.”
The other pilots looked at one another dubiously. Grinder felt irritation rise within him. “You can look it up on the ship’s computer. And unless I killed the thing, it’s somewhere in the ship. Maybe behind the bulkheads.”
Phanan moved to the terminal and tapped his way through a series of menus. “I don’t find anything about a Crystal Deceiver.”
“It’s a link from the entry for the Glass Prowler.”
“I don’t find an entry for the Glass Prowler.”
Grinder stood unsteadily and stared over the doctor’s shoulder.
Phanan was right; there was no entry in the ship’s encyclopedia for any life-form from Storinal.
“I suggest,” Phanan said, “that it was a dream. Something stress-induced, perhaps. But I think I’d like to keep you under observation tonight.”
“I’m fine,” Grinder snapped.
“Do as he says,” Wedge said. “Grinder, your scream woke up half the ship. You cooperate with Phanan or I’ll have him certify you unfit to fly until you do.”
“Sir, that bug is a killer. It bites you and paralyzes you and you lie there while it eats you. If you don’t hunt it down and kill it right now, it’ll make Night Caller its own banquet hall.”
Wedge glanced at Phanan, who shook his head. “You have your orders,” Wedge said. “Get some sleep.” He gestured for the other pilots to accompany him, and left.
Janson followed, but Face lingered and shut the door.
“Face, I’ve got to make you believe me—”
“Sit.”
Grinder flopped down on his sick-bay cot. “Please—”
“Let me show you something.” From his jumpsuit pocket, Face pulled a crude assembly of small mechanical parts. Grinder recognized a standard speaker from New Republic–issue datapads, a tiny battery, trailing wires.
Face touched the bare ends of two wires together.
The speaker said, “Scritch, scritch, scritch.”
Grinder was suddenly standing. He didn’t remember rising, but now he was advancing on Face. “You—”
Phanan seized his shoulders, dragged him back down onto the cot. Grinder struggled and glared up at Phanan. “What the hell is going on?”
“Payback,” Face said. “Do you deny that you put that bug in my cockpit?”
“I—What? What bug? I don’t know—” Grinder saw the implacable expression Face wore and gave up the pretense. “All right. I did. So what?”
“So you also did all that other stuff. The dummy in Falynn’s closet. The leaping tubes and wires in Kell’s locker. Plenty of other tricks. All the while sneering at the idea of pranks.”
“I did not.”
“No one else could have done it without leaving a trace on the ship’s computer. You cracked passwords right and left to do it.”
Grinder set his jaw and didn’t answer.
Face shrugged. “So, payback. My way of saying I don’t appreciate it. My way of saying stop. Because this is about the lowest setting of payback I know.”
“How’d you do it?” Grinder asked.
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
Face finally grinned. “To start with, when that Glass Prowler crawled out from under my seat and onto me—”
“Right, why didn’t you react?”
“Well, I thought it was Phanan’s.”
Grinder turned to the doctor.
Phanan shrugged. “You remember when we were sneaking back out of the Scohar Xenohealth Institute? We passed by a pallet full of little boxes holding these things. The sheeting covering the pile was ripped, so I just took one of the boxes. I’ve always been intrigued by insects, ever since, as a boy, I learned they can make some girls jump. I kept the little thing in a cage in my room. Face, since