The Legacy of Lehr

by Katherine Kurtz

  “What next? A stake through the heart?” she whispered, in a voice that only Mather could have heard.

  Mather grinned and patted his free hand unsteadily against the toe of her boot in reassurance, then shifted Wallis enough in his arms so that he could peek carefully under his hand at her wound.

  “You’d better get the rest of your medical people up here as fast as you can, Doctor. As far as Wallis is concerned, I can handle basic first aid as well as the next man, but you’d better see to the captain, if we haven’t already lost him.”

  “But is Wallis all right?” Shannon asked.

  “She’ll be fine with me until they get here. Go to Lutobo.”

  Still a little dazed, Shannon nodded and moved to Lutobo’s side, where one of the newly arrived crew was already administering emergency first aid. Mather managed to find a pressure dressing in Wallis’s medical kit and slapped that over her neck wound, then rummaged in the kit again until he found a familiar hypo-spray, which he charged and then triggered against his own wrist. As he felt the stimulant racing through his system, clearing his head and helping to counteract the effects of the needler dart he had taken, he took a few seconds to pull out the darts in his torso, shaking his head as he discovered another in the back of one thigh. He was running a pocket scanner over Wallis, trying to decide whether to give her a stimulant, too, when she opened her eyes and managed a weak smile.

  “Hi, there,” she whispered. “Will I live?”

  “Afraid so,” he answered with a grin. He glanced up and half turned as Deller and a medical team entered the room. “We need some oxygen over here right away, Deller—and an IV started, as soon as you can manage it. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Deller came over immediately with a technician and equipment and bent to check Mather’s scanner readings.

  “Let’s type and cross-match for a couple of units of whole blood, too,” he ordered, as the technician knelt on Wallis’s other side and started setting up. “Commodore, are you all right?”

  Mather nodded. “Yes, and if type and cross-match are going to take too long, you can set up for a direct transfusion from me. We’ve exchanged blood before, so I know we’re compatible.”

  “See to it, Jacy, while I check on some of the others,” Deller said to the technician, moving on.

  Mather helped break out the oxygen unit, but Wallis raised her hand long enough to give Mather’s a slight squeeze, then she took the oxygen mask and held it to her face. After a few deep breaths, she looked up at Mather again.

  “You might see if someone can manage a vasoconstrictor, too,” she murmured. “I can tell that my pressure is ’way down.”

  The technician starting the IV gave Mather a nod, and Mather echoed it as he smoothed a lock of red hair from her face.

  “It’s being taken care of,” he murmured. “How do you feel?”

  “Woozy. What did you do to Reynal?”

  Mather smiled a devilish grin. “You aren’t going to believe me when I tell you.”

  “Try me. You didn’t watch him and Wing drain Lutobo dry.”

  “No, but I thought I was going to have to watch him do it to you. Anyway, do you remember how we discussed the possibility that we were dealing with a vampire, and we talked about some of the classic defenses against same?”

  Wallis took another deep breath of oxygen and waved off the technician to see to other patients.

  “So you branded him with silver, exposed him to sunlight, and threw holy water on him, eh?” she murmured, her voice sounding hollow inside the mask. “You cultural anthropologists are all alike.”

  “Well, as I recall, it was you who pointed out to Doctor Shannon that most superstitions and legends have some basis in truth.”

  She took away the mask to stare at him incredulously. “Are you joking? You’re not, are you? Mather Seton, if you tell me that the analytical, Academy-educated darling of the Imperial Service reverted to superstitious—

  “Are you going to talk or are you going to listen?” Mather said simply.

  Wallis studied him for a moment, taking another few breaths of oxygen, then thrust out a petulant lower lip. “I don’t believe a word you’re going to say, but go ahead. This should be very interesting.”

  “Oh, I assure you, it is. Now, we know that Reynal wore a microbe defense shield, right?”

  “Well it was a little more than that, after Wing got through with it. You do know that he was the one working with Reynal, don’t you?”

  Mather snorted. “I should. I took a couple of his darts. In any case, despite what Wing did to the shield, it wasn’t as perfect as they might have wished. I spotted a potential weakness before I even saw Reynal use it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you were busy doing other things, so you weren’t aware of it, but there was another attack after you and the captain left the hold—two little boys down on Level Four.” He skipped over her expression of dismay. “One of the boys was killed in the usual manner, though Reynal didn’t stop to slash him up, for some reason; but Reynal let the other one go—rather suddenly, it appears. It seems the boy was wearing this chain and ident tag around his neck.” He pulled it out of his pocket to show her. “Shannon found it when she was called to the scene to treat the surviving boy, and she brought it to me. It’s very high-grade silver.”

  “Silver!” Wallis exclaimed, stifling a giggle. “Oh, Mather, does it have a cross on it?”

  “No, but it’s an excellent conductor,” he replied, ignoring her jibe, “and Reynal’s shields generated a high-voltage electrical field around him, rather like a walking stun bolt. He probably came close to shorting out his shields right then. That, plus the legends, was what gave me my idea.”

  “So you threw the chain at Reynal and his shields exploded?”

  “Close, but not quite the whole story. There was too much danger of missing, and I suspected I’d only have one chance.” He paused to give his arm to the technician who had returned to set up the direct transfusion. “I raided Doctor Shannon’s reagent cabinet before we left Medical Section, after making sure that the chain really was silver. And what I brought with me was a small beaker of salt water—”

  “Salt water? As in sodium chloride in water?”

  “Sure. It’s a good conductor, and supernatural beasties can’t stand salt.”

  Wallis let her head fall back against the floor dispairingly and took another deep breath of oxygen. “Salt water,” she finally murmured. “Doesn’t holy water always have salt in it, too? I don’t suppose you had it blessed?’

  “Well, as a matter of fact—”

  “I don’t think I want to hear about it.” Wallis shook her head. “So, you brought salt water and what?”

  “Salt water and a strong silver nitrate solution. Can your brilliant biochemist’s brain tell me what happened then?”

  “My brilliant biochemist’s brain has turned to mush,” she said impatiently. “Are you going to tell me what happened or not?”

  He took her free hand in his and brushed her fingertips across his lips, then smiled. “Silver nitrate plus sodium chloride, in an aqueous solution, gives a silver chloride precipitate—plus some other things that aren’t important in the reaction at hand.”

  “But silver chloride isn’t metallic silver.…”

  “No, but when you pass an electrical current through it, you get metallic silver and chlorine gas. And you’ll have to admit that throwing silver chloride precipitate against Reynal’s shields subjected it to one hell of an electrical current.”

  She closed her eyes wearily and nodded. “Metallic silver.”

  Mather nodded. “And chlorine gas—and holy water, none of which are well loved by creatures of the supernatural.”

  “But, Reynal wasn’t super—”

  “Hush.” Mather laid a finger across her lips. “Of course he wasn’t. But what does it hurt to take a few precautions, just in case?”

  As she drifted off to sleep, he c
aught her slight smile and nod of agreement.

  CHAPTER 13

  Two days later—but a day earlier than had been anticipated, thanks to Mather Seton’s recalculation of the necessary phase jumps—the Gruening Novaliner Valkyrie entered the Hyadum Primus system and made orbit around Tersel, the third planet, headquarters of the Second Imperial Fleet and capital of the Kafeor Empire. As soon as she had established orbit, her shuttles began ferrying passengers down to the planet’s surface. Scheduled layover had been cut from twenty-four hours to twelve, but many were going planetside anyway, eager to set foot on solid ground again after the frightening events of the voyage. A few had elected to leave the ship altogether and wait for the next available transportation.

  Nor was all the traffic one-way. A coroner’s shuttle had been the first ship to dock with Valkyrie, followed closely by one carrying officials and legal counsel of the Gruening Line. But none of these would ever know the full extent of what had happened aboard the Valkyrie between Il Nuadi and Tersel.

  The Imperial authorities knew—at least those to whom Mather and Wallis reported, and to the extent that even the two of them understood what had occurred. Wing’s deception in particular was still a mystery. And since neither Wing nor Reynal had survived, the full story was likely never to be known. Once assured that Wallis, the captain, and the rest of the Rangers and crew would make full recoveries from their ordeal, Mather had spent the best part of a day composing his report: checking details with Shannon and the still-weak Wallis, interviewing crew members who had been at least partial witnesses, and just generally tying up what loose ends he could.

  Now the Imperial cruiser Shantar was standing by as close as safety permitted, one of her shuttles maneuvering toward one of the Valkyrie’s receiving bays. The craft bore the markings of a member of the Imperial family aboard, and he was not likely to settle for the report alone.

  “How upset do you think he’s going to be, because we’re only delivering three cats?” Wallis asked in a low voice.

  She and Mather were watching the last of the docking maneuvers from an observation port in one of the crash doors that closed off the bay from the rest of the hanger. Other than a scarf that concealed the healing wounds on her neck, Wallis showed no signs of her recent ordeal—unlike Captain Lutobo, who was still recovering in sick bay. The Valkyrie’s first officer was supervising operations this morning; he and Shannon presently were trapped in nervous conversation with the Gruening folk who had come up from Tersel.

  Mather shrugged and leaned both hands against the edge of the porthole. “All things considered, I suspect he’ll be delighted to get even the three. I’ve already reminded him that we’re lucky Reynal didn’t decide to butcher them all. I’d be willing to bet that we see a proper team set up very quickly, too, to study the cats in their own environment. I shouldn’t be surprised if even the obnoxious Doctor Torrell wants to be involved, once the dust settles.”

  “That depends on whether he still intends to sue us for harrassment and general embarrassment,” Wallis said with a chuckle. “He was a very unhappy man when the captain and I left him, and I noticed that he was aboard the first shuttle to head planetside.”

  “Maybe he’ll get the project and a Lehr cat will eat him,” Mather said with a smirk.

  “Now, is that nice?”

  “Of course not—but he’d deserve it, if only for sheer boorishness.”

  Wallis could hardly argue that point. Laughing in spite of herself, she looked down the row of shuttle bays, then glanced up at the passenger observation deck above them and nudged Mather. Two heavily swathed figures with feathered crests spread open both arms in greeting as he looked their way, and Mather made both of them a pronounced bow of acknowledgement, one hand touching his heart and then extending palm outward.

  “I suppose the Aludrans will be glad to see us go,” Wallis said after she, too, had saluted the two.

  “They’ll be glad to see the cats leave, at least,” Mather agreed, “though they finally came around to admitting that Lehr cats are nothing like their green demon cats. I had a chance to talk a little with Muon and Bana while you were recuperating. It’s fascinating how so many cultures seem to have cat mythologies. We were made tragically aware that vampire legends seem to run through almost every culture we’ve encountered, but no one has really developed a similar thematic treatment for feline myth cycles.”

  “It sounds like a good topic for someone to research,” Wallis said, arching a reddish eyebrow.

  Mather caught her meaning immediately and returned her grin. “Yeah, I know. Someone besides us. We only clear the way.”

  He glanced across the shuttle bay at the cargo loading area, where Lehr cats prowled in three shiny plasteel cages, only occasionally letting out a yowl. He tried not to look at the large, hermisealed capsule nestled with the rest of their equipment—the remains of the fourth cat, which Reynal had killed—and he wondered again whether they could have done anything differently, to have averted all the senseless slayings that had marred the expedition. In any case, that was all academic, now.

  What was not academic, however, was the need to square things with the Gruening officials before the Imperial shuttle docked. Those worthies were in the next bay, at the foot of the ramp extending from a shuttle bearing the markings of Health and Immigration. A fussy-looking coroner’s deputy stood a little apart from them, sourly inspecting the outside fittings of five plasteel caskets while a clerk checked off items on a sheaf of clipboarded forms. (A sixth casket, Ta’ai’s, had been launched into Tersel’s sun, according to Aludran ceremony and custom, immediately after Valkyrie emerged into normal space.)

  Cargo handlers came to take the first casket aboard the shuttle, snapping on anti-grav lifters and slowly guiding the container up the loading ramp. The coroner shook his head and went to rejoin the others at the foot of the ramp; he scowled even more as he noticed Mather and Wallis watching him.

  “Now’s our chance,” Wallis muttered under her breath. “I hope you’re in top form today.”

  “Why, my dear, you know I am always in top form,” Mather murmured from between clenched teeth. “Why don’t you wait here for HRH, while I have a word with civilian officialdom?”

  He headed toward them with an outward air of nonchalance, but he could not honestly say that the group inspired optimism. One of the older men, bearing an advocate’s badge stitched to his sleeve, was engaged in animated and angry discussion with a younger man wearing the planetside livery of the Gruening Line. Doctor Shannon and Arthur Bowman, the Valkyrie’s first officer, were listening gravely to both sides of the argument, Bowman occasionally attempting to make some comment and getting cut off.

  As the coroner noticed Mather approaching, he muttered something under his breath to the attorney, and the argument became even more vocal. Discussion seemed to revolve around the general topic of lawsuits, liability, and varied legal action contemplated against Gruening, the crew of the Valkyrie, and all other persons possibly accountable.

  “Good morning, Mister Bowman, Doctor Shannon, gentlemen,” Mather said heartily. “I hope I’m not intruding.” He shook Bowman’s hand, then Shannon’s, and nodded to the others in the group, taking perverse delight in the knowledge that he was, indeed, intruding. “I want to thank you again for the excellent cooperation we received in getting our cargo here safely. In fact, your entire staff is to be commended, Mister Bowman.”

  The Gruening official looked startled, if relieved, the advocate outraged, the coroner dubious. Shannon and Bowman merely looked grateful for the rescue. It was the coroner who first found the presence of mind to speak.

  “You must be the Commodore Seton who is responsible for this sorry state of affairs—in which case, I hardly think that commendations are in order. I have five bodies to account for here, and another has already been disposed of under very irregular circumstances.”

  “The Aludrans didn’t think it was irregular, Coroner,” Mather said easily.

&
nbsp; “Now, see here, Commodore!” the Gruening man interjected. “It seems to me that you’re taking this matter altogether too lightly. I can assure you that my company considers six deaths excessive for a five-day journey.”

  “So do I,” Mather replied, “and I take full responsibility for two of those deaths, as you’ll see when you examine the official reports. It was not my intention to kill either one of them, but I assure you, it was necessary. As for the others, I share in your dismay, for it is, indeed, a great tragedy that innocent people should have perished. But I can in no way fault the performance of the officers and crew of the Valkyrie. Under the circumstances, I doubt that experienced officers of an Imperial ship of the line could have handled the situation more expeditiously. Certainly the Imperial Rangers under my direct command were able to do no better in the situation. I repeat”—he turned back to the coroner—“the crew and staff of the Valkyrie are to be commended.”

  “We’ll see whether a court of inquiry agrees, Commodore,” the advocate said, drawing himself up disdainfully.

  “Indeed, we shall.”

  Mather made a crisp, formal bow, resisting the impulse to click his heels, then turned to Shannon and Bowman and shook their hands once more.

  “Again, thank you, Doctor, Mister Bowman. And please give my regards to Captain Lutobo when he’s able to receive visitors. Doctor Hamilton and I are most pleased that he’s going to make a full recovery.”

  “I’ll tell him of your concern, Commodore,” Shannon replied.

  “Thank you.”

  With that, Mather made a short bow in the direction of the other three men, then turned on his heel and strode the short distance across the deck and into the next bay to rejoin Wallis. The ramp of Shantar’s shuttle was just telescoping down, and Mather’s Rangers waited expectantly as several naval ratings came down the ramp first.