"It was days," said Docchi. "Yes, she did. It was the only opportunity she had." It was a strange language she'd learned, the code a complex computer used inside itself, the stop, go; current and no current; the electron stream; the mechanical memory rocked back and forth magnetically—and all the while the whisper of a steel tape as it coiled and uncoiled. It was possible that only a computer would ever be able to understand the girl. And yet she was a creature of flesh, bones, glands, nerves, and blood flowing through her veins in reponse to the intangible demands of life.
Anti stirred restlessly. Waves of acid spilled over the sides and where the fluid touched, grass curled and blackened. "I said I'd wait but I didn't say I liked waiting. Why don't you two get busy?"
"I was thinking where |{u begin," said Jordan. He hoisted himself onto a repair robot he'd taken for himself. It was an uncomfortable vehicle for anyone else but it seemed just right for him.
Docchi got up; there was no question where to start. Anything they considered needed something done. In the struggle for freedom, in their resistance to the guards, they'd overlooked it. They'd have to reorient their outlook. Perhaps that was the biggest thing that confronted them.
"Goodbye," Anti called out as they left. The picture Docchi looked back to was unforgettable^the tank and Anti in it, Nona sitting in blank pensiveness under the tree. One was capable of near miracles with seemingly little effort, but at times she seemed inert. The other was raw vitality with an urge to live—but there was hardly any time she could stand upright.
Docchi hurried along, trying to keep up with Jordan. He lengthened his pace but still the gap grew. After a while he slowed down, attempting to assess the damage the guards had done as he passed by evidence of their destructiveness.
Visibly they seemed to have torn everything apart but actually not much had been destroyed. Mostly the repairs would consist in reassembling machines and structures that had been dismantled. This wasn't the result of consideration. Until the last moment the general had been certain he'd find Nona and hence retain possession of the asteroid. If he had, the unnecessary violence would have been hard to explain. Lucky—because the guards could have wrecked the place.
They'd still have difficulty; even able-bodied men would, and they were far from that. They were not equipped for an expedition of this nature and somehow they'd have to build what they lacked. Light and heat, the function of power, was automatic, and the oxygen supply was nearly so. It was with the lesser things they'd have trouble. Some food had always been brought in, and now that supply was gone. It would have to be replaced. They could do without other luxuries now that they had the biggest one—freedom to do what they wanted.
Docchi himself was a good engineer and Nona couldn't be too highly evaluated. Between them they could convert unnecessary equipment into something they needed. Two geepees and a repair robot taken apart and properly reassembled might equal some inconceivable machine that would go a long way toward solving problems of food, air, meteor detection or what have you. It was a thought.
Jordan clung perilously to the robot as it rumbled along. "Where is everyone?" he called back.
"Asleep, I guess," said Docchi.
"Sleeping, when there's so much to be done?"
Habit had taken over. The mechanisms of the asteroid were still operating as they were set to function. The lighting in the dome indicated it was time and so they slept. But there were no hours, days, weeks, and moments any more, nothing but necessity to guide them.
"We'll change this," said Docchi. "Most of us have been treated as invalids so long we believe it. We'll divide up in groups and from now on somebody will always be awake, working or watching, or both."
It was obvious what the watch would be for. Empty space— but how empty? The region near Sol had been explored but what lay beyond? Between the sun and Alpha Centauri there might be many interstellar masses "large enough to smash the asteroid. They'd have to take precautions.
Jordan sent the machine along faster as if to compensate for
others' inactivity. Presently he stopped abruptly, waiting for
Docchi to catch up. He glanced down in front of his machine.
"Here's one of them who was very sleepy," he said. "Un-
less----- "
Docchi looked at her. It was one of the Nonas who hadn't yet removed the disguise. The cosmetechnicians had done their work well and it was difficult to say who she was. There was a startling resemblance to the girl they'd just left with Anti. She was curled up in an uncomfortable position and it was obvious she wasn't there by choice.
Jordan swung off the machine and felt her pulse. "There is one," he muttered, carefully looking her over. "Can't see anything," he said at last. "At first I thought the guards had done it but there's no broken bones nor, as far as I can tell, internal injuries. She ought to have a medical examination."
Startled, Docchi glittered. Medical care was one of the luxuries they'd have to do without. They needn't fear epidemics;
they were isolated and their bodies were phenomenally resistant to disease and anyway the antibiotics they had would quell any known infections. But here was something they hadn't accounted for. "There are a few people around who used to be nurses," said Docchi. "We'd better get them."
"Where?" grunted Jordan. "She needs attention now."
Jordan was right; the girl couldn't wait. Part of the difficulty was that there were so many accidentals with peculiarities. What was safe for one accidental might be deadly to another. They had to know who the girl was before they could decide whether to do anything. The disguise had helped them get away but it was hurting them now. "Can you pry off the makeup?" he asked.
"Without the goop they carry in the cosmetic kit? Hardly. I'd tear her own face off."
It could mean her death to move her before something was done—but what was that something? She would know; everyone did. They were all experts on their own ailments and could give down to the last item on their prescription, diet or exercise, a concise analysis of what they had to do to maintain their health.
Jordan shook her gently, harder when that failed. Presently she stirred, her eyes fluttered and she whispered something.
"Ask her who she is," said Docchi, but that was impossible. It had taken strength to respond at all and after she'd used it the girl had lapsed back in the coma.
"She didn't say," said Jordan helplessly. "She whispered one word—food. That was all."
Food.Docchi knelt beside her to check his conclusions. Now that he was close he could see that her skin was extraordinarily smooth and lustrous. Her face, arms, legs, even her hands, and if they removed her clothing the rest of her body would be the same. Her skin and the mention of food told him what he needed to know. It was Jeriann, the first volunteer Nona—and the first real casualty.
He could reconstruct with some accuracy what had happened. After Cameron discovered who she was she'd been kept in custody and given medical care. As the search wore on and more guards were sent out to search she had managed to escape, hiding from the guards. But she had remained hidden too long and had collapsed trying to get to the hospital.
Hunger shock, simply that, but with her hunger was a traumatic experience. Having no digestive system at all she was always close to starvation. "Pick her up. It won't hurt her," said Docchi. "Let's rush her to the dispensary."
Jordan hoisted the limp girl to the top of the repair robot, wrapping extensibles around her, adjusting them so they held her. He got on beside her, reaching into the controls and squeezing extra speed out of the makeshift ambulance.
Docchi was not far behind, arriving at the hospital not long after Jordan and his passenger did. The dispensary was on the first floor and so Jordan wheeled the robot directly to the door. He dismounted and lifted Jeriann off.
Inside the dispensary there was little that had actually been broken. This was remarkable considering how thoroughly the guards had ransacked the hospital. But someone with a grim sense of humor ha
d seen to it that the medical preparations were hopelessly intermixed, scattered over the floor in complete confusion. For the present emergency it couldn't have been worse if everything had been broken.
Docchi stared down at the litter, his face twitching as he glanced back at Jeriann.
"It's in here somewhere," said Jordan. "How do we find it in a hurry?"
"See if there are names or symbols on them."
Jordan was close to the floor anyway; he leaned down and began pawing hastily but with extreme care through the confusion of medicals. Every bit of it was precious even though they didn't know what it was. Someone could use it, had to have it, and eventually they'd be able to place whom it was intended for. "No names," said Jordan as he continued to look.
Docchi was afraid of that, but it was a thought for the future. Hereafter there would be names on everything so that even if it got displaced they'd be able to identify it. The medical administration must have been exceedingly lax. "What about symbols?" he said quickly.
"There seem to be some. Don't know what they mean." Jordan brightened. "We can look in the files."
Docchi bent his body. He'd observed that when he entered. "Won't do any good. The files are scattered too." And that was an act of wanton hatred. It hadn't helped the guards find Nona.
Jordan stopped scrabbling through the piles of miscellaneous bottles, capsules, and vials. "Then we've got to go for help," he said slowly. "There's got to be somebody who knows what she takes looks like."
He couldn't condemn her so easily and that's what it would mean if she wasn't attended to in the next few minutes. There was a line beyond which the body couldn't pass without extreme damage, perhaps death. And she'd been close to it when they found her. Docchi began to review desperately what he knew of Jeriann. It wasn't much. There were too many accidentals for him to know all of them.
First, she never ate or drank. Her needs in this respect were supplied medically. That was why her skin was so soft and evenly beautiful. It was not a reflection of inner health. If anything it was due to the method of intake. And that told him what he had to know.
Another accidental might have guessed it instantly, but there were various kinds of accidentals, groups within groups, and their peculiarities varied so widely that few knew what all of them were. In one sense Jeriann was a deficient.
"I think we can find it. Look for the largest capsule," said Docchi.
"I know what you're thinking, but it won't work," said Jordan, sweeping his arm around to indicate how impossible the request was. "She gets all her food and water that way so it has to be the largest. But which one? Some of the preparations are supposed to last for weeks. They might be bigger than hers."
"It's simpler than you suppose. I don't know what her schedule is but it must be at least five times daily, and massive at that. It would be exceedingly painful, not to say inconvenient, if she got all her food and fluid needs by injection."
"Absorption capsules," exclaimed Jordan. "Why didn't I think of that? That makes it easy."
"Don't be so sure. There are other deficients," cautioned Docchi.
Jordan had cleared a space around him and was already separating the preparations. At first glimpse the absorption capsules were like any other container—and then they weren't. The shape was not quite regular and the outside was soft to the touch, almost like human flesh. That's what it was, almost. And in time, when properly^ applied, that's what it did become.
Further, there was a thin film on one side. When this was peeled off and the exposed surface was pressed against the body, only surgery could remove it.
Jordan gazed in indecision at the absorption capsules he'd assembled in the cleared space near Jordan. "Which one is hers?" he said doubtfully. "They're all alike."
Actually they weren't. There were subtle differences in size and shape that would enable anyone who was familiar with it to distinguish his preparation from any other. Another deficient might say which was Jeriann's since generally they'd be more observant of these matters. But it did no good to wish that the girl's friends were here. "We'll have to keep looking," said Jordan, hitching himself over to the heap of medicals he'd just gone through.
It hadn't worked out as well as he'd expected. Reflection should have shown it wouldn't. The capsules were expensive and difficult to make and so they wouldn't be used except where the sheer volume and the repetitive nature of the injection required it. There was probably no case on the asteroid as extreme as Jeriann's, but once a day instead of five was still repetition. "There's nothing in that pile," said Docchi harshly. "You've gone through it and I watched."
Jordan paused; he knew it too. "What'll we do?"
"Simplify it. Toss out the smaller ones until only fifteen are left." There was no real reason for selecting that figure, none but this: in her dazed condition she'd have time for one glance. If it wasn't there, it just wasn't.
Jordan complied, exceedingly dextrous when he had to be, though more than dexterity was involved. Visual comparison had to suffice and it was never harder to make. "That look about right?" asked Jordan when he finished.
"It should be one of them," said Docchi. He was guessing. They both knew they were. The capsules were set near Jeriann, about the size of a man's fist. One of them, the one for Jeriann, was remarkably small considering it had to supply the total needs of a human body. For a fraction of a day only, a fourth or a sixth, but even so it was little. She must be always hungry. It would never do to mention food to her.
Jordan raised her up gently, tilting her limp body so she could see what she had to choose from. He glanced at Docchi for confirmation and then began to slap her. Still the consciousness was buried deep. He hit her harder until breath ran shud-deringly into her lungs. "Which one?" he asked quickly, as soon as her eyes flickered open, running over the array of capsules.
He grabbed the one she seemed to indicate, holding it closer. "Is this it?" Her eyes dropped shut and she couldn't answer. Jordan laid her down. He wiped his hands on the sacklike garment. "She recognized this one," he said, not looking at Docchi.
So she had, but was it recognition of something that was hers? "I could see that. We'll give it to her." "Should I sterilize it or something?"
Jordan wanted to delay because he wasn't sure. And they couldn't delay, even if it was the wrong thing. It might be like giving sugar to a person in a diabetic coma, the certain way of finishing him off faster. And yet with Jeriann it had to be done. Actually very little time had elapsed since they found her, five or ten minutes. What they didn't know was how long she'd lain there.
Docchi shook his head. "The absorption capsule was meant to be administered under any condition. Outside of puncturing it and squirting in a virus culture there's no way to harm it. It's self-sterilizing."
"I forgot," said Jordan. "Where'll I give it to her?"
"Anywhere. Oh, I guess maybe her thigh. It may sink in faster since she's gone so long without."
Jordan brushed her skirt up and carefully peeled off the film on one side, making certain the exposed surface didn't come in contact with his hand. The capsule contracted as the film came off, rhythmically writhing. The shape changed too; it was like nothing so much as a giant amoeba. Quickly Jordan thrust the raw surface of the squirming thing on Jeriann's thigh. It was not alive but it was capable of motion and it moved a quarter of an inch before it adhered.
It stuck there. It was one with the girl, it was her; and the correct injection or not it couldn't be removed. The fluid in that pseudobody was being injected into Jeriann through the countless pores it covered—through her skin without a puncture. It was no wonder her skin was radiantly beautiful—five times a day an area of ten to fifteen square inches. In a short time her body would be covered, and she never could use the same place on successive days. She achieved ciarity and flaw-lessness of complexion, but at a price. At a price.
Jordan wiped his forehead. "Shouldn't we be seeing some results?" he said anxiously.
"It has a
long way to go," Docchi assured him. "Into her bloodstream and to her muscles and glands, to her brain. In a minute now if we don't see some results we'll know we've failed."
They waited.
8
DOCCHI slumped in the chair, looking the place over with some satisfaction. The medical inventory was proceeding quite well; one by one each preparation was being identified and the local source checked. It wasn't nearly as bad as he had assumed at first; they were nearly self-sufficient.
One of the checkers came in. Docchi recognized her vaguely; he'd seen her around but that was all. He didn't know who she was nor what she did. Unless he was mistaken her arms and legs were her own, a trifle heavy but shapely enough. If there was anything about her that was camouflaged with plastic tissue it was her face—-the sullen glamour was an exaggeration of nature and moreover her expression didn't change at all as she came nearer. There must be something with her face that couldn't be corrected surgically and so she'd overcompensated.
"We've got it all done," she said in a flat throaty voice. Glamour there too, in about the same degree.
"What?" he said. "Oh yes, the check of the biologicals. All identified?" He recalled her name, Maureen something or other.
"Everything that people claimed. There was some that no one knew what it was. Useless I suppose, or worse. It ought to be destroyed."
That was a logical assumption any time save now. Medicine was precious and had to be hoarded even if they didn't know what it was. "Save it, Maureen. Sooner or later someone will be in for it."
"They've all been in. You don't know how they rushed here when they learned the dispensary had been ransacked by the guards." She smiled with faint disdain.
He was beginning to doubt whether her expression came out of the cosmetic kit; it was applied with extraordinary skill if it had, flexible enough to allow her feo smile without seeming strained. But if it actually was her face it was monotonous. How long could she keep up the glamour? "Don't be condescending, Maureen. Of course they were concerned. There are people who need those preparations to live comfortably, some in order to live at all."
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