The Legacy of Lehr

by Katherine Kurtz

  “I am as sober as—as …”

  Abruptly the voice trailed off, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body slumping to the floor.

  “Orderly,” Deller called.

  Shaking her head slightly, Shannon leaned back far enough in her chair to peer into the next treatment room, where Deller and the steward were holding up an unconscious Jacob Carvan. A heavyset orderly was bringing in an antigravity floater from the outer corridor.

  “Everything all right, Doctor?” Shannon asked, grinning a little as Deller glanced in her direction.

  Deller sighed and made a wry face. “When are you going to start covering morning sick call again?” he said as he helped lift Carvan onto the floater. “Yesterday, it was Darroweed and Tejat brandy, and he was convinced he was going to dissociate on the spot. Today—well, I guess you heard. And tomorrow, who knows what new combination he’ll dream up? One of these days, he is going to poison himself.”

  “You have to admit, though, it’s good training for you.”

  “Yeah, I get all the luck,” Deller said ruefully, though he started chuckling as he watched the unconscious Carvan taken out of the treatment room. “You don’t suppose he likes having his stomach pumped, do you?”

  Shannon was still considering the amazing ill judgment of some of their passengers a few minutes later, when Mather and Wallis arrived.

  “Well, good morning,” she said, switching off her log as she motioned them to seats. “Should I assume, since you’re here so early after last night’s little escapade, that you’ve come up with some more ideas about our Aludran friends? You can close the door, if this is apt to get complicated.”

  Mather closed the door, but he shook his head. “It isn’t complicated, and it isn’t even directly about the Aludrans,” he said, taking a seat beside Wallis. “We’ve come up with a theory we’d like to test on the cats.”

  “Well, they’re your cats.” Shannon paused a beat, then added, “What kind of a theory?”

  “More like a conjecture, actually,” Wallis said, giving Shannon a folded piece of paper from her jumpsuit pocket. “This is a list of equipment we’d like to borrow, if you’ve got it. Or, if you haven’t got some of the things, we may be able to improvise. We think the cats might be slightly telepathic, especially on the sending end. The Aludrans are, you know.”

  “Hmmm, I remember reading that,” Shannon said, a little preoccupied as she scanned over the list. “But, I don’t see what that has to do with—”

  As her desk console shrilled an alert, a red light flashed beside the screen. Shannon punched the receive button in an automatic gesture, without looking up.

  “Shannon.”

  “Deck Three Security, Doctor. We have an emergency coming in for you: two passengers in shock or hysterics and a DB.”

  “A body?”

  Shannon gasped as she looked up at the expression on the face of the security guard. Without taking her eyes from him, she slapped the signal button for Deller and the nursing staff to stand by for an emergency.

  “What happened?” she demanded. “Who died?”

  “A passenger—we think his name is Fabrial. And he didn’t just die; he was murdered.”

  “Murdered?”

  “That’s right. The other two coming in found him. They’re too shaken up to give us a statement, so we’re going to let you handle that when you get them calmed down. We’ll send the body as soon as we’ve finished the on-site investigation.”

  “You’re sure he’s dead?” Shannon insisted.

  “Oh, yeah, he’s dead, all right.”

  A commotion in the outer office announced the arrival of the passengers in question, and Shannon dashed to assist. Mather and Wallis glanced at one another, at the face of the security officer just before he cut off, then moved into the doorway to watch and listen. Two stewards were bringing in a weeping woman of about thirty, Deller directing them into an adjoining treatment room and calling for a nurse. A dazed and shocky-looking middle-aged man had paused just inside the door to the outer office, a security officer supporting him under one elbow. There was a smear of drying blood on the back of the man’s hand and across the front of his expensive tunic and another barely visible on the guard’s maroon sleeve.

  “Lord Elderton and his wife,” Shannon murmured under her breath. “Just what we needed. Del, that’s Lady Elderton—I think her first name is Anne. Just sedate her and stabilize until I can come and get a statement.”

  As she turned her attention to Lord Elderton himself, she was not pleased to see that her instructions had elicited no response whatever from him.

  “Matt, is he injured?” she asked the guard, gripping Elderton’s wrist to find a pulse—which was racing but strong—but getting no sign of conscious awareness. “What happened? Did you see anything?”

  The guard shook his head. “Not really, Doctor. The victim was already dead when I got there. Lord Elder-ton was kneeling beside him, just moaning and rocking back and forth on his heels, and the lady was screaming. That’s what brought us running. He wouldn’t say much, but I got the impression that he saw at least part of what happened. I’m pretty sure he got to the victim before he died.”

  “Is there any chance he did it?” Shannon asked, passing her hand back and forth in front of her patient’s eyes without getting even a blink.

  “None,” the guard said flatly.

  “All right, let’s get him inside,” Shannon said, leading them briskly through her office and into the adjoining treatment room, where Mather joined in helping lift their listless patient onto the padded table. When Wallis pitched in, swinging standard diagnostic equipment into position from above, Shannon began loading a hypospray. Elderton’s eyes continued to stare blankly.

  “I’ll take over from here, Matt,” Shannon said to the guard. She consulted the scanners while calibrating the hypo. “Thanks for bringing him in. Make sure someone notifies me as soon as the body arrives. And if the captain hasn’t already been informed, make sure he is.”

  “Right, Doctor.”

  As soon as the man closed the door behind him, Mather and Wallis moved closer to the other side of the table to watch what Shannon was doing. Elderton had closed his eyes.

  “I think we can safely assume, for now, that this is the victim’s blood,” Shannon said, gesturing at the smear on the tunic before injecting the man over the right jugular. “I’ll turn the lab loose on it after I’ve stabilized him and gotten a statement. You realize, of course, that you shouldn’t really be here for this.”

  Mather raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather we left?”

  Shannon managed a strained smile. “I guess not. Frankly, I’d be grateful for your assistance. Forensic medicine is not an area that’s stressed in the training one gets for starliner practice. I know the basics, of course, but—well, in your line of work, I’m sure you’ve witnessed this sort of thing many times. I think I can handle a simple statement without any problem, but remind me if I forget anything.”

  “Glad to help,” Wallis said.

  While they talked, Elderton’s medication had made him relax, his vital signs settling to those of repose. Shannon gave him another few seconds, checking the medscan readouts again, then reached above the table and pulled down a recording pickup, positioning the microphone near the patient’s mouth and aiming the camera with a dim green light. A touch to a test circuit, a minor adjustment of the alignment of the camera, and then she was drawing back to lean the heels of both hands on the edge of the table and watch her patient’s face.

  “Can you hear me, Lord Elderton? Just relax and let your medication take the edge off. I know you’ve just been through a terrible experience, but you’re perfectly safe now, and you’re going to be just fine. We do need a statement from you, though. Do you think you can tell me what happened? Just nod your head if you think you can.”

  The man’s chin moved slightly as he wet his lips, and then he nodded.

  “Very good.” She glanced at t
he microphone and drew a deep breath before going on.

  “Let the record show that this is a medical interview and preliminary statement of passenger Robert, Earl of Elderton. Attending physician is Doctor Shivaun Shannon, Chief Medical Officer, Gruening Novaliner Valkyrie. Witnessing: Doctor Wallis Hamilton and Fleet Commodore Mather Seton, Imperial Service.”

  She glanced across at them and raised an eyebrow, continuing at Mather’s nod.

  “Patient Elderton was brought to Medical Section this date suffering from severe emotional shock, allegedly caused by witnessing some portion of a murder. Stabilization was achieved by administering .5 cc pentomerisol over the right jugular vein. Interview follows.

  “Lord Elderton, can you hear me? Answer, please.”

  Elderton managed a weak, “Yes.”

  “Very good. Now, I want you to tell me what happened up on Deck Three that upset you so.”

  Elderton wet his lips again and started to shake his head weakly from side to side, screwing his eyes more tightly shut.

  “God, I can’t! It was too terrible! I don’t want to remember.”

  “I know it isn’t pleasant, my lord, but we have to know what you saw.” Shannon’s voice was quietly insistent. “Think back to just before it happened now. You’re walking down the companionway on Deck Three.” She paused. “Where were you coming from?”

  “I—I’d been in my cabin. I was on my way to breakfast.”

  “That’s fine. You’re doing just fine. Was there anyone with you?”

  “My—my wife, Anne. But—oh, God, don’t let her see it! It’s awful!”

  “Easy, my lord. Your wife is perfectly safe. Just relax. There’s nothing to be afraid of now. It isn’t really happening again. It’s only a memory. Now, you’re walking down the companionway on Deck Three with your wife, on your way to breakfast. Did something unusual happen then?”

  Elderton swallowed noisily, but he went on. “I—I heard a scream. Only, it wasn’t really a scream—it was more like a—a gurgle, like someone drowning. Oh, God, I don’t want to remember!”

  “You must remember, my lord. It’s important. Now, you heard a scream, or some strange sound that frightened you. Then what happened?”

  “I—I came around the corner by the luggage storage room, and there was Gustav, lying in a pool of blood. We—” He choked back a sob. “We’d had dinner with him, just last night.”

  He covered his face with his hands and started to shake, but Shannon gently pulled the hands away, continuing to hold them loosely on his chest.

  “I’m so sorry, my lord. Can you tell me the rest of Gustav’s name?”

  “It’s F-Fabrial—Gustav Fabrial. We—went to school together. He—oh, please! No more!”

  “Shhhh—just relax now,” she crooned. “It isn’t really happening now. I’m sorry to have to put you through this, but please try to tell me the rest. Did you see anyone around him?”

  Elderton swallowed and shook his head, apparently calming a little under Shannon’s touch.

  “N-no.”

  “All right. This is going to be the hardest now, but I need you to tell me about Gustav. Was he still alive when you found him?”

  Tears streaming openly down his face now, Elderton nodded. “He—he was on his stomach. He—was moaning. I ran to him and turned him over—God, there was blood all over the front of him! And on the carpet under him! And he was gasping something about blue, and eyes—eyes coming after him—golden eyes! Only, he c-couldn’t really speak, because his throat—oh, I can’t!”

  “Just relax, my lord,” Shannon murmured, glancing uncomfortably at Wallis and Mather and selecting another hypospray. “Just a little longer. Try to remember. Did he say anything else?”

  “No. He just—died—there, in my arms—and there was nothing I could do. And there was blood everywhere, and—please, no more! I don’t want to remember any more. No more, please!”

  “All right. There’s no more. You’ve done just fine.” The hypo hissed as she triggered it against his neck again. “Go to sleep now. Relax and go to sleep.”

  Meticulously, then, and without turning off the recorder or looking at Wallis and Mather, who were exchanging puzzled glances, Shannon pulled another instrument down to point at Elderton, focusing an aiming light squarely between his eyes. After adjusting a timer, she keyed the machine with her thumbprint. The light pulsed blue for several seconds, emitting a low-pitched, throbbing hum, then cycled off. She would not look at either of her observers as she pushed the instrument back into place and removed the cartridge from the recorder.

  “Go ahead and lecture me, Doctor Hamilton,” she said, laying the cartridge on a counter behind her and leaning against the edge to look at them at last. “You, at least, must know what I just did.”

  Wallis nodded. “I have to say I’m surprised, however. I wouldn’t have expected you to mind-wipe a witness in a murder case.”

  “And totally without his consent—I know,” Shannon replied. “Still, it was necessary. Of course, mind-wipe is really a misnomer, as I’m sure you know. When he wakes up in a few hours, secure in his berth, he’ll be able to remember, if he really tries. It will all seem like a dream, though, without the gory details and without the emotional involvement of the actual occurrence. The memory isn’t really lost, of course—any competent psychotechnician could easily retrieve it—but it’s submerged and veiled in less threatening symbolism. Well do the same for his wife. It’s company policy, not mine.”

  “Company policy, to tamper with a free citizen’s memory?” Mather said in a low voice.

  Shannon sighed. “Commodore, the Gruening Line doesn’t like adverse publicity. Incidents such as this could be damaging to the company’s reputation. Now, I may not agree with company policy, but I work for Gruening, and I owe them for my professional training. That’s why I’m here, after graduating at the head of my medical class, instead of serving a plushy residency on one of the major research satellites. Besides, the procedure isn’t illegal. It’s often done if the attending physician feels that a traumatic memory might be damaging to the patient’s health.”

  “Or to the physician’s health,” Mather said.

  “Or to her job,” Shannon agreed. “That’s another reason the recording was made. It constitutes a legal record of Elderton’s statement, and it gets all of us off the hook, if the situation should be questioned later on.”

  Without waiting for further comment, Shannon pushed a call button and then left as an orderly and a med tech entered with a floater. She took the record of Elderton’s statement with her. After the technician had taken several samples from the bloodstains on Elderton’s hand and clothing and a sample from Elderton himself, he and the orderly shifted the unconscious man onto the floater and took him out.

  Wallis and Mather followed in time to see Shannon coming out of Deller’s treatment room, now with two cartridges in her hand, solemn and thoughtful as she watched Deller guide another floater out to follow the first, deeper into the back reaches of the medical facility. Before they could decide whether to approach her again, however, the outer door to the reception area drew aside to admit another floater—this one covered—escorted by a tense-looking med tech and a security officer.

  No one said a word as Shannon directed the floater past her office and into one of the surgeries, she, herself, lowering it to the table—though the security man gave Mather and Wallis an odd look when they followed into the room and remained as Shannon switched on lights above the table. And as Shannon pulled back the covering from the body, both the technician and the security man watched Wallis and Mather for their reaction.

  Wallis gasped. Mather stifled an oath. Shannon’s face went white as her gaze swept the body.

  But it was not the body itself, or even the victim’s manner of dying, that had caused their varying reactions. The apparent cause of death was massive trauma to the throat—the obvious source of the blood reddening the entire front of the body, as Elderton had descri
bed—but the wound was no worse than many that all three of them had seen before. It was the victim’s right hand that riveted their attention, the entire arm badly slashed and bloodied, several of the lacerations exposing tendon and bone.

  And clutched in the dead man’s fingers was a tuft of long, blue hairs.

  CHAPTER 5

  For an endless instant, no one spoke. The blue hairs said all. The horrible wounds on the rest of the body reinforced the growing conclusion that no one had yet dared voice. A stunned Shannon glanced at Mather in surprise as the big man abruptly roused himself and headed toward the door.

  “Commodore, just where do you think you’re going?”

  Shannon’s voice was strained, and Mather turned to glance at her and all of them as he paused by the intercom just inside the door and punched the call button. The screen lit immediately with the bright Gruening Line logo.

  “ComNet,” said a pleasant voice.

  “ComNet, this is Commodore Seton, in Medical Section. Please connect me with the duty officer in my cargo hold, priority status one.”

  “Stand by.”

  Shannon stared at him aghast as he glanced at her again.

  “I know what you must be thinking, Doctor,” Mather said carefully, “and frankly, I can’t say I blame you. Well soon see whether your suspicions are justified.”

  “But, isn’t it obvious to you what’s happened?”

  “I know what it looks like happened. ComNet, are you having some problem getting through?”

  Even as he spoke, the speaker chimed and the Gruening logo dissolved to the gaunt face of a Ranger named Webb.

  “Webb here.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Mather glanced at Wallis, at Shannon and the body between them, at the med tech waiting uneasily behind them, and at the security guard, who looked as if he might just draw the needler on his hip.

  “Mister Webb, is everything all right there in the hold?”

  “Well, sir, I was just about to call you.” Webb’s drawl sounded strained. “There are two men here from ship’s security, demanding to see the cats. They seem to think the critters got out and killed someone during the night.”