The Peytabee Omnibus

by neetha Napew

  ‘And they’d have nowhere to go here either, so crowded we are,’ Sinead said sourly.

  So everyone started talking at once again until Sean, in mid-flight up the stairs on his way to Yana, stopped and held up his hands.

  ‘OK now, folks, let’s just calm down. If the ship’s disabled, we can relax. There’s just two people to be considered and I think we can handle this, Muktuk, Chumia, Sinead and me. Go on back to your homes and your dinners. And thank you very much for being so ready to stand on the line. Sure do appreciate your support.’

  Then, followed by Bunny, Sinead and the two Murphys, Sean swarmed up the steps two at a time.

  ‘Where did you say you stashed them, Bunny?’ Sean asked when they got outside.

  ‘First cabin I came to,’ and Bunny pointed. ‘Megenda was shaking so bad he needed to get warm’t’t’

  ‘Oh, that’d be the Sirgituks’,’ Chumia said, smiling. ‘They won’t mind. They’re still down below. Shall I ask them to stay here, in our place, until we’ve got things all settled?’

  ‘Would you please, Chumia?’ Sean said with an appreciative smile but he kept right on striding towards the place where Yana was.

  In fact, he was at least ten strides in front of Bunny and Muktuk when he reached the door and went in. Bunny trotted to catch up and heard a very surprised Yana call out Sean’s name. When Bunny entered the Sirgituks’ cabin, they were locked in each other’s arms, cheek to cheek, eyes closed, rocking back and forth and not saying a word. Yana’s face was wet with tears.

  Dinah O’Neill was looking Sean up and down as if she was hunting for something she wasn’t seeing and there was a bit of a smirk to her grin. Megenda was still shivering, though not quite as violently now that he had the warmth of the soup in him. Yana and Diego had removed both of the pirates’ clothing and their own in Bunny’s absence, and were wrapped in the Sirgituks’ extra clothing and blankets. A kettle boiled on the stove.

  ‘Dinah O’Neill, this is Muktuk Murphy-O’Neill and Chumia Murphy-O’Neill, your kinfolk. And the man by the fire is First Mate Megenda of the Jenny,’ said Bunny.

  ‘Greetings, kinswoman,’ Muktuk said, ‘though I think we gotta do some straight talking before anyone’s going to want to welcome you proper, like. Now let’s get this fella seen to. Whatcha think, Sinead? Give him a tot of the Juice?’

  Sinead had followed Muktuk in and was eyeing Dinah O’Neill with a less than charitable expression on her face. She had relaxed on seeing that Yana was well enough to cling to Sean and now she gave the shuddering Megenda her attention.

  ‘D’you have some of Clodagh’s Juice?’

  Muktuk nodded. ‘Always keep some handy since the time it brought my brother back to life, when he fell into the fish-hole that winter.’

  He rummaged in one of the overhead cupboards in the kitchen corner of the house and dragged out a medium-sized brown bottle, held it up to the light and twirled it, checking the level of the liquid. Satisfied, he got down a glass, poured in an exact two fingers of liquid, then handed the glass to Megenda.

  ‘This’ll stop those shivers before you come loose at the joints.’

  Megenda was evidently willing, at this point, to drink anything that might reduce the chill he had taken. Grasping both edges of the fur rug in one big hand, he took the glass in the other and swallowed the contents in one gulp.

  Muktuk regarded him, and Megenda looked right back, sort of superciliously, until the Juice made itself known in his gullet. Then his eyes bulged out, fit to pop from his head, and he gasped, exhaling, and even Bunny, on the far side of the room, recoiled as his exhalation reached her.

  Dinah O’Neill looked angry. ‘What did you give him?’

  ‘Just what Clodagh would have given if she was here,’ Bunny said smugly. ‘You watch. It’ll stop those shivers as if he’d swallowed a hot poker.’

  Megenda, mouth still wide open, dragged in a breath as deep as the one he had just expelled, settled it in his lungs, shook his head, and stood straight and tremorless in front of the fire.

  ‘What was in that?’ he asked in a raspy voice, letting the fur drop from his head. His observers could now see the beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. Close as he’d stood to the fire, it hadn’t been able to warm him to sweating.

  Sean grinned. ‘Clodagh Senungatuck makes it up for dogsled drivers to use in case of a ducking. Used it a time or two myself to good effect.’

  ‘When you come out of the water after a good swim?’ asked Dinah O’Neill with an odd smile on her lips as she regarded Sean, her head tilted to one side.

  He gave her a long stare. Then he smiled back at her. ‘I don’t need it on those occasions, Dama. I’m in my element then.’ He gestured to the table, pulled out one of the chairs and settled Yana in it. He hadn’t let go of her hand all this time and he continued to hold it throughout the next discussions.

  ‘That stuff keep its whammy long?’ Dinah asked, looking respectfully at the bottle as she took a seat. When Sean nodded, she asked, ‘That’s the sort of thing Petaybee does like no other culture?’

  ‘We have developed certain medications that are effective in this sort of climate, yes. That’s one. I doubt it would have much use on, say, a tropical world where the general demand would be small.’

  ‘But something that when it’s needed, there isn’t anything as efficacious?’ Dinah went on.

  Sean inclined his head. ‘Like the cough syrup that cured my wife’s…” and he gave Yana such a fond look that Dinah O’Neill blinked wistfully, ‘cough. How is it now, dear?’

  ‘I haven’t so much as sputtered since I got back into Petaybean air, Sean,’ Yana replied, squeezing his fingers.

  ‘No, you haven’t.’ Dinah O’Neill blinked again and then frowned before she gave her head a little shake. ‘No, you didn’t manufacture those coughing fits.’

  ‘No, I did not,’ Yana said firmly. ‘I definitely did not. But I’m not going to go off-planet ever again…’ and this time her free hand went to the pouch at her neck, ‘not for any reason, no matter how damned important.’

  ‘Not that Sean’d let you,’ Bunny said.

  ‘Now, Dama, what do we do?’ Sean said directly to Dinah O’Neill. ‘Have you indeed come to seek sanctuary here from your pirate captain?’

  ‘Actually,’ and now the famous O’Neill smile broke across Dinah’s pert face, ‘I’m here as spokesperson for Captain Louchard to discover what… ah, shall I say, local wealth, can be used to defray his costs.’

  ‘His costs?’ Diego said, angrily.

  ‘Well, yes, of course, he has to make some profit from what has turned out to be an ill-advised undertaking.’

  ‘Won’t restoration of the half-sunk shuttle suffice?’ Sean asked, a twitch of a smile on his lips.

  ‘Oh, dear heavens, no. The shuttle can either sink on its own or the Jenny’s tractor beam will lift it,’ Dinah O’Neill said airily. ‘No, the Captain expended a considerable amount of time and energy, plus rations and accommodations…’

  ‘Rations and accommodations…” Diego burst out.

  ‘Why, you were fed from the Captain’s table…’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Yana muttered.

  ‘Well, my table, then,’ Dinah corrected herself. ‘And fresh fruit and good meat…’

  ‘Only when we threatened hunger striking,’ Diego said irately.

  ‘Whatever,’ Dinah said, dismissing his complaint. ‘Time and effort, as well as supplies, mean some compensation must be forthcoming or I fear the Captain will do something drastic.’

  Sean cleared his throat. ‘I do know that the gentlefolk in Marmion Algemeine’s social sphere have set up certain precautions that make ransom impossible.’

  ‘She’d rather die than say yes?’ Dinah said in an arch manner with appropriate gestures of hands and eyes.

  ‘Exactly,’ Sean replied in a flat no-nonsense tone of voice. ‘None of her rank are good kidnap targets. Your captain missed a trick there.’

 
; ‘Captain Louchard don’t make mistakes,’ Megenda said menacingly.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Dinah O’Neill said, pretending dismay and she leaned conspiratorially across the table to Sean and Yana. ‘The first mate isn’t going to be very easy to deal with, what with all he’s gone through.’

  ‘Then he’d better be grateful we bothered to save his skin,’ Bunny said fiercely. ‘Because I’ll never do it again.’

  ‘You will find, Dama, that none of your captives are ransomable.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Dinah said sweetly. ‘You’ve already proved conclusively that this planet has products that are life-saving.’

  ‘The Juice is useful, that’s true, but let’s face it, how many hypothermic victims have you encountered in your line of work?’ Sean asked. ‘And while it doesn’t cost much to produce, there’s not what you’d call a good profit margin in Juice either.’

  ‘Ah, but there may be other items with which to pay your ransom… like your swimming… ah, shall I say, technique?’

  Sean threw back his head and laughed heartily. ‘That’s hereditary, Dama, and not many would put up with the inconveniences.’

  ‘Like running around starkers in minus-forty Celsius?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘I think I need to speak to the Powers That Be on this place. You are, if you’ll pardon me, really not the final authority. Or so I’ve been led to believe.’ Dinah had cocked her head again at Sean. Then she turned abruptly to Bunny. ‘You promised to guide me to one of the communion places of this planet. Do so now.’ She rose. So did Megenda.

  ‘I will guide my kinswoman,’ Muktuk said, putting a hand on Sean’s shoulder to keep him seated by Yana.

  Dinah gave Bunny and Diego a stern look and pointed her index finger at them. Megenda took the half-step necessary to loom above them. Bunny shrugged. Diego glowered but both rose from the bench. So did Sinead, who eyed Megenda as she idly caressed the handle of her skinning knife.

  ‘Remember to listen carefully, Dama,’ Sean said and paid no more attention to the group setting out to the communion place.

  ‘Let’s go and get this over with,’ Megenda said in a growl, herding everyone before him. At the door, he looked back over his shoulder at the bottle, still visible on the worktop, and shook his head.

  22

  SpaceBase: Petaybean Immigration Facility (PIT)

  Contents - Prev/Next

  Adak Rourke wanted nothing more than to take his bruised and aching head back to his cabin in Kilcoole and forget about the wider universe and all its problems. He was an amiable man, with simple tastes because he’d never had occasion to have or expect more. He enjoyed the life he had once led, as Kilcoole’s expediter, and keeping the snocles working and knowing when spaceships were coming in (which were few enough not to overburden the facilities or himself).

  Up until this morning, he’d really enjoyed being Chief Immigration Officer and Official Welcomer but, between getting conked on the head (hard) and now this, he felt inadequate. That didn’t set well. Neither did the unanswerable demands of these latest arrivals. In all his born days, he’d never seen anything like this! Though he’d heard both Sinead and Clodagh had had to manage some pretty queer persons lately,

  ‘You mean, there are no hospital facilities whatever on this planet?’ the indignant personage repeated for the umpteenth time.

  ‘I keep telling you, if someone’s sick, they stay home,’ Adak replied.

  He cast a jaundiced eye at the ‘patient’ who would have been better off staying at home, too, instead of bringing who-knew-what rare disease to Petaybee.

  Right after they’d arrived, a big orange tomcat had sauntered in, sitting down beside the sick man’s chair to wash itself. Then it had hopped up on the man’s lap, sniffed, lifted its lip in a disgusted way, and hopped down again to saunter out the door. Adak figured it was going to tell Clodagh there was someone sick and smelly here. Personally, he could only hope Clodagh would hurry. He was a little out of his depth, and Clodagh was the healer, after all. Though he was absolutely certain she wasn’t what this high and lofty group would expect to tend their patient. Mind you, if he knew Clodagh Senungatuck, and he had all his life, she’d be the very person to heal the man in the remarkable chair.

  It floated, dang it, above the floor of the Cube, as he had watched it float above snow and mud and everything else people had to plough through around Space-Base these days. And the ‘patient’ - a Very Important Personage named Farringer Ball whose helpers seemed to think that even Adak Rourke would know who he was - was hitched up by tubes to the chair.

  ‘Or,’ Adak continued,’ they call their local healer if they don’t live in Kilcoole, or Clodagh Senungatuck if they do which is what I’ve done only it’ll take her time to get here.’

  ‘Don’t you realize that in medical situations time is of the essence?’

  ‘Sure, but he ain’t bleeding and he is breathing and those’re encouraging signs,’ Adak said. ‘And he’s got all of you here to make sure he doesn’t bleed and keeps breathing so sit down, please, over there, until Clodagh gets herself here.’

  The person in his beautifully tailored, fine travel garment looked at the spartan seating arrangements and the expression on his face when he turned back to Adak was dour and condescending.

  ‘Surely there is some kind of transit lounge’

  ‘You’re in it,’ Adak said, rudely interrupting which was not his normal manner, but he was getting fed up with doing this crazy sort of word dance around the subject as if the name, once spoken, would instantly provide what the speaker truly wanted. In this case, apparently, the most expensive suite in a private hospital, the most successful and omniscient doctors who would provide instant health for the patient. ‘I done tol’ ya, Intergal pulled everything out, including their infirm’ry when they gave the planet back to itself. At that, us Petaybeans have more than we ever had before,’ and Adak gestured proudly around the Cube. It was not only clean and warm but bigger than any four of the biggest cabins in Kilcoole.

  ‘Now set yourself down and wait,’ Adak shuffled the papers in front of him, making a good show of looking for something. Then he picked up the comunit and turned his back on the medic man as if this was a very private call. The guy finally copped on and moved away from the counter.

  ‘Thavian, didn’t you tell him who I am?’ wheezed the old man in the chair, pounding the arm-rest with a hand liberally covered with liver spots.

  Surreptitiously, Adak shot him a glance. Guy didn’t look too good, at that. All sunk in on himself. If he expected Petaybee to bring him back from whatever got him that way, he was asking for a miracle. That was sure. And, as far as Adak had ever heard, you couldn’t pay for miracles: they just happened in their own good time. Like the great big mountain that

  Petaybee thrust up in the middle of the landing field… and then swallowed back up six weeks ago.

  Fortunately, just as Adak himself was getting twitchy, he spotted a trio of cats bouncing through the snow and the bulk of a fur-clad Clodagh lumbering behind them. Looking from her to the immaculately dressed medical folk - even the patient had on fine threads and was bundled in the amazingly coloured pelts that no animal on Petaybee ever grew, Adak was sadly aware of a vast difference in style and appearance between Petaybeans and visitors. Not that those fancy clothes were as warm and as suitable to Petaybee as his and Clodagh’s practical, and indigenous, garments. And he almost hated to drop this problem in Clodagh’s lap after all the ones she’d had with that Rock Flock which kept growing like some fields will grow rocks no matter how often you clear them off.

  ‘Slainte, Adak, what’s up?’ Clodagh asked as she threw open the door and let in a blast of cold air, which smelled refreshingly clean to Adak. He realized then that there was a fusty stink to the air in the Cube, due to the patient, no doubt and all the funny bottles and tubes in his floating chair.

  ‘I am Doctor Thavian von Clough,’ the person said, eyeing Clodagh
disdainfully. ‘My patient is Secretary General Farringer Ball,’ and a graceful hand introduced the patient. ‘We were informed by a reliable source that mis planet has unusual therapies to assist my patient back to full health.’

  Clodagh squatted down so that her face was on a level with Ball’s. ‘Slainte, Farringer,’ she said softly. ‘You looked better on the comscreen. What’s wrong?’

  Ball wheezed and looked at Clodagh from under lowered eyebrows. ‘That’s apparently supposed to be for you to find out, young woman.’

  He looked startled at Clodagh’s laugh which was not only ripplingly young but beautiful.

  ‘Thanks for the “young” ‘ she said, patting his hand companionably.’

  ‘It wasn’t intended as a compliment,’ Dr von Clough replied stiffly, eyeing Clodagh not only with distaste but patronizingly.

  Clodagh shrugged, unconcerned. Before any of the medical team could intervene, she had her fingers on Ball’s wrist. She stooped so she could look him squarely in his lined and sad face, and tut-tutted. She pinched a flap of skin on his arm and observed the rate of its relaxation.

  ‘You’re real tired, aren’t you?’

  ‘The Secretary General is suffering from a serious PVS condition

  She nodded. ‘Real tired.’ Straightening and standing she added, ‘He should stay here awhile.’

  ‘That’s what Luzon said, though he wouldn’t say why,’ Ball wheezed.

  ‘Him?’ Clodagh snorted derisively. ‘Just goes to show you anybody can do something right once in a while. Don’t suppose he meant to. But the joke’ll be on him. How’d you all get here? Whit Fiske said the PTS was grounded.’

  ‘Why, the Secretary General has a private launch for the necessary travel he must’

  ‘On SpaceBase? Now?’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘Good, then you can all stay there and I think I can find space for Mister Ball…’

  ‘But… but this… individual… said you had no hospital facilities.’ Von Clough regarded Adak accusingly.