Ro-Lecton nodded excitedly. “That’d be wonderful, Lieutenant,” he enthused.
Kas cleared his throat. “Uh, Doctor, wouldn’t it be more useful to copy the contents of the Rekesh ’s crystals to some of our own? I mean, transmit the signal to some sort of recorder? That way you’d have a permanent copy.” He paused. “In fact, we could just have someone run each crystal through the reader/transmitter without bothering to read it. Then you could sort through the copies later.” He shrugged. “It’d get you working much sooner. Sheol, by the time your entire team is suit-qualified, you could know just about everything the Rekesh ’s medical staff had done. You wouldn’t be covering ground that’s been covered before.”
Ro-Lecton bounced to his feet. “Yes! Do you think we can really do that, Lieutenant?” Kas struggled to suppress a smile. Gone was the superior, supercilious air the little med tech had displayed since his awakening. This Ro-Lecton was pure scientist. His tone had been plaintive, almost pleading.
Edro flushed with embarrassed pleasure and nodded. “Y-Yes sir. That should be no problem at all!”
And it wasn’t. It took Toj and Edro less than three hours to rig a transmitter to be fitted to the reader in the bio lab and turn another reader into a combination receiver/recorder.
Ro-Lecton’s thanks were so heartfelt and effusive that even the stolid Engineer flushed with embarrassment.
Kas shook his head. He realized that he was seeing the real, the original Ro-Lecton — Ro-Lecton as he’d been before he’d been tricked into an administrative and political position. This Ro-Lecton was pure scientist — intrigued by a professional problem and totally focused on its solution. Dignity, pecking orders and lines of authority were no longer important to the little man — he had a real problem to solve, and could hardly wait to get started.
Kas wondered what Ro-Lecton’s team would think of the Mark II version of the little doctor.
Tera volunteered to suit up and run the crystals through the reader/transmitter in the bio lab. Ro-Lecton refused to let anyone else tend the receiving/recording unit.
In the meantime, the rest of the crew was equally busy. Gran was awakening the medical team as quickly as possible and shuttling them to Jane and Lar for suit training. Toj was busy bringing space suits from storage and preparing them for use. Edro was helping Toj whenever he wasn’t busy with communication or comp work. That left Kas and Rom to begin exploring the Vir Rekesh. Kas had realized when speaking to Ro-Lecton that they really didn’t know whether or not the entire ship was open to space. Fan-Jertril’s companions may not have shared his idealistic heroism. So, as soon as possible, he and Rom suited up and each took one of the remaining two personnel locks.
He needn’t have worried. Both locks were open, and contained a suited corpse.
Kas breathed a huge sigh of relief when Rom reported that the last personnel lock was open to space. “All right, Rom. Meet me at the hangar bay. According to Fan-Jertril, that’s where they put the rest of the bodies; and Ro-Lecton’s going to start screaming for bodies to autopsy as soon as his team is ready.”
The huge black maw of the hangar deck opening was large enough to easily swallow Starhopper. The hangar deck occupied almost an entire level at the ship’s widest point. In effect it nearly split her in half and created an open area of nearly 200,000 square meters. “Open” was a relative term, of course. The Rekesh ’s hangar deck was occupied by nearly a hundred Wasp and Strengl fighters. It also contained an assortment of other craft — from the Admiral’s barge and Captain’s gig to atmosphere craft, some designed for combat and others merely as transports of various types.
But Kas wasn’t interested in the Rekesh ’s cargo of lethality. He was looking for a cargo net, probably stretched near a personnel airlock leading from the hangar bay. Sick men and women moving sometimes dismembered and often decomposing corpses were unlikely to be choosy. They’d rig the cargo net as near the lock as possible.
It was there, of course. In the inky blackness the pools of light from their helmet lights revealed a huge net stretched against the hangar bulkhead. The net bulged with its grisly cargo. Arms, legs, and even heads protruded grotesquely through the net’s mesh.
Familiar as he was with death, the ghastly contents of the net made Kas shudder. The bodies were frozen, perfectly preserved as they were when Captain Fan-Jertril decompressed the hangar deck. Some were still contorted in the agony their wounds had inflicted. Others appeared to be merely sleeping peacefully. Quite a number were missing limbs, but plas bags were tied to a number of the bodies. Kas assumed the bags contained body parts.
There was little blood, though there was much bloodstained clothing and skin. When the bodies had been brought here life support had been functioning. They’d been carried or dragged here. What bleeding there had been was only a result of moving the bodies. Kas was sure that the passages leading to that nearby hatch would be black with dried blood stains. But there were none of the large globules of drifting, frozen blood that he’d half expected.
Kas saw Rom turn away with a sick expression visible even through his helmet. He, himself was struggling to suppress a strong urge to throw up. He reminded himself that vomiting in space suits is not recommended.
He turned and shuddered again. “Let’s get out of here, Rom. If Ro-Lecton wants any of these cadavers he can come get them himself.”
Rom obviously agreed, though he made no reply. He merely kicked hard off the bulkhead, sailing across the cavernous hangar deck as though speed could relieve the horror. Kas knew that the action was irrational — but he kicked off just as hard. He’d seen death before, of course. As a junior officer he’d more than once had to gather bodies and body parts after accidents or skirmishes. But three thousand bodies, many of them scarred or dismembered, and most decomposed to at least some extent, was simply too much.
Rom was silent for a long time as they made their way back to Starhopper. Finally he said in a dull voice, “Commodore, I request to be assigned to Starhopper for the return trip.”
Kas frowned. “Why? You’re a Fleet officer; you’ve seen death before.”
Rom shook his head. “I’ve seen death,” he agreed. “And I’ve done my share of killing. But this… this is a death ship, sir. There’s evil here!”
“Nonsense!” Kas roared. “There’s no evil here. Evil requires purpose. A plague is purposeless — a natural disaster. It just is.”
He paused. “Certainly bad things happened here. There was mutiny and riot and cowardice and horror. But it was the all-too-human result of three thousand frightened people facing certain death. I will not tolerate talk that undermines discipline and panders to rank superstition. You will keep any such opinions to yourself. Is that clear?”
Rom’s face looked strained behind his suit’s faceplate. “Yes, sir. But I still request assignment to Starhopper for the return trip.”
Kas shrugged. “And you may be assigned to Starhopper, if that’s where I decide to put you. But you are a Fleet officer. You will serve where you are needed.” He glowered at the other man. “Damn it Rom, I didn’t expect this kind of nonsense from you! I need you too badly to have you go into some kind of funk just because you’ve seen some bodies. I don’t have time to pamper a prima donna. Now, get hold of yourself!”
Rom flushed. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. But that…” he shook his head before resuming. “I’m afraid I’m going to have nightmares about that.”
Kas relaxed. “I doubt I’ll sleep well myself for a while. But we’ve got a job to do, and by all the weird gods of the galaxy, we’re going to do it.”
Chapter 10
By the time they returned to Starhopper and unsuited it was time for dinner. At the moment there were few enough of them awake to permit simultaneous meal hours, and Kas was encouraging them to make meals a social occasion. He felt that the interaction promoted crew cohesion and good morale. Today he was hoping that the dinner conversation would help lighten his mood and banish the horrid visions of cont
orted, agonized bodies that kept intruding on his consciousness. He even looked forward to Ro-Lecton’s barbed wit.
The others were already there when he and Rom arrived, but he noted that Ro-Lecton wasn’t present.
He turned to the little man’s assistant. “Where’s your boss, Doctor?” He asked.
Doctor Nila Kor-Nashta was a statuesque woman of mature but indeterminate age. In these days of easy and affordable body sculpting, one could make few assumptions. In this case, Doctor Kor-Nashta stood some 180 centimeters tall, and the lab coat she habitually wore over her shipsuit — Only the weird gods of the galaxy knew where she’d gotten it — failed to conceal a slim, attractive body. Her honey-blonde hair was pulled into a severe bun. She shrugged. “I haven’t seen him today. I’ve been busy setting up the bio lab. I guess he’s wrapped up in those memory crystals.”
Kas frowned. “Come to think of it, he wasn’t at dinner last evening either. Did anyone see him at breakfast?” Heads shook negatively.
A look of concern crossed the woman’s face, and she rose, gathering her tray. “I’d better check on him.” She turned away toward the disposer, hesitated, then turned back with a curious expression. “What did you people do to him, anyway? I mean, he’s so different.”
Kas’ face relaxed into a grin. “I just explained his priorities. That there were no bureaucrats to impress out here, no fat cats to wheedle for grants. Just a job to be done. I think he was relieved.”
She nodded and returned his grin with a smile. “I’m sure he was. Frankly, I was expecting to have to run the show while he socialized. This is going to be interesting.” She hurried out.
She returned a few minutes later, red-faced, puffing, and slightly disheveled. Tucked beneath her arm was a crystal reader.
“This assistant’s job may be tougher than I thought,” she said ruefully. Then she chuckled. “He didn’t answer my knock, so I got worried and barged in. He was sitting there stark naked, glued to this damned viewer. I’d guess he’s been there at least one day and probably two. He was dirty and unshaven. He cursed me and told me to get out. I tried to reason with him. But finally I had to grab the viewer and tell him that if he wanted it back he’d have to get cleaned up and come down here for dinner.”
She chuckled again. “At any moment he’s going to come boiling through that hatch, probably demanding my head on a platter.” She shook her head. “We’re going to have to keep an eye on him, sir. I know he’s an ass, but he may well be the most gifted epidemiologist in the Empire. Unless he starts taking care of himself…”
Kas nodded, grinning. “Don’t worry, Doctor. I’ll back you up. In fact, why don’t you give me that viewer? I don’t work for him. He can’t just order me to give it back.”
She looked relieved as she passed it over, then got herself a cup of caf and sat down, obviously nervous. Most of the crew had already left the mess room, but those remaining were dawdling and delaying their departure. It seemed that Ro-Lecton’s appearance was anticipated with interest.
They weren’t disappointed. A clean and freshly-depilated Ro-Lecton hurried through the hatch in less than ten minutes, red-faced and angry.
“ Doc tor Kor-Nashta!” He demanded furiously as he entered, “This is inexcusable! Give me that reader immediately! How dare you…”
His voice trailed off as he saw the reader in front of Kas, who was, with difficulty, keeping a straight face.
“Doctor Ro-Lecton!” Kas shouted cheerfully. “Pull up a chair, Doctor.” He looked around. “Tera, would you get the doctor a tray?” Tera, struggling to control her amusement, nodded and hurried to the food dispensers.
Ro-Lecton was obviously wondering what Kas was doing with the reader, and trying to figure out how to demand its return. He dropped absently into a chair, and Tera slid a tray in front of him.
He frowned. “Really, Commodore, I do have work. I have no idea what Doctor Kor-Nashta thought she was doing in stealing the viewer, but if you’ll give it to me I’ll get back to work…”
Even while he was still talking, Kas began shaking his head. “Nope. Sorry, Doctor. Now, you cram a couple thousand calories down your neck, and then we’ll go discuss it.”
Ro-Lecton eyed Kas warily. He was clearly remembering the last time he and Kas had ‘discussed’ something. He was about to protest when his nose was assailed by thoroughly distracting smells coming from the tray in front of him. He swallowed noisily, hesitated, and began wolfing down the food on his tray like a starving man — which, in fact, he was.
He finally sat back and sighed with contentment after consuming what Kas estimated to be over two thousand calories, Kas invited him and Doctor Kor-Nashta to his cabin.
“All right, Doctor,” he began. He suppressed a smile at Ro-Lecton’s wary expression. “You have a very important job here. In fact, the rest of us can’t even begin our part of the job until you’ve done yours. Everyone aboard this ship is depending upon you. Fortunately I think you’re the man for the job, and represent our best chance of accomplishing our mission.”
“But,” he continued, “You’re behaving like a fool. Before this meal, how long had it been since you’ve eaten?”
Ro-Lecton looked uncomfortable. “Uh, I’m not sure. Breakfast? Or was that yesterday? But Commodore, what I’m doing is vital…”
Kas interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “Of course it’s vital. But I don’t want you to miss something important because you’re groggy from lack of sleep. Damn it, Doctor, you have to take care of yourself. We need you too badly to let you kill yourself trying to do everyone’s job.”
“Now, I won’t insist that you attend every meal. But I will insist that you at least eat dinner. If necessary, I will send someone to fetch you — and if you try to scuffle with them the way you did with Doctor Kor-Nashta today, you’ll regret it.”
“Finally,” he continued, “Until further notice power to your cabin will be turned off at 2200 hours ship time, and not restored until 0600. I intend that you have no choice but to get some sleep.”
Ro-Lecton leaped to his feet. “You don’t understand, Commodore! They’ve almost got the bio lab operational! Within a day or two, we’ll be ready for autopsies and post-mortems. By then I have to know…”
His voice trailed off as he saw Kas’ head shaking. “No, doctor. No one expects miracles, including me. This isn’t a single-handed research project, and this plague eluded a top-flight medical staff aboard the Rekesh. Overnight results are not expected. In fact, I’ll be more impressed with thoroughness than speed. Do I make myself clear?”
Ro-Lecton’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “As you wish, Commodore. But we’ll be losing valuable time…”
Kas’ head was shaking again. “Not at all, Doctor. Your team consists of what, fifteen? People…”
“Fourteen, sir.” Kor-Nashta corrected.
“Fourteen, then. Only about half of them have been awakened, I believe.”
“Eight, sir.” Kor Nashta put in.
“All right. Eight have been awakened so far, and five, including doctor Kor-Nashta, here, have completed suit qualifications. It will be at least several days before your team is complete.”
Kor-Nashta snorted. “More like a week. You haven’t seen a klutz until you’ve seen a field biologist who’s never been in space try to walk in a suit!”
Kas grinned. “There you are, Doctor. You have plenty of time.” His grin faded.
“Look, Doctor,” he continued earnestly, “Our best hope of beating this thing quickly lies with you finding something in those crystals that everyone else missed. I need you to take care of yourself. We can’t even begin trying to salvage the Rekesh until you succeed. Sheol! Until you complete your work, we won’t even know if we can salvage her!”
Ro-Lecton sighed. “Very well, Commodore. I really have no choice but to agree to your requirements.” He sounded unconvinced by Kas’ statements.
Kas grinned. “Nope. You don’t.” He passed the reader over to the lit
tle scientist. “Here you are, Doctor. Now that you’ve eaten, I’ll let you get back to work. But don’t forget. Your cabin will go dark at 2200 hours.”
Ro-Lecton grimaced in annoyance. “Thank you, Commodore. If thanks are appropriate.”
Kas’ grin widened. “I suspect that thanks don’t really express your sentiments, but I’ll accept them anyway. Now get out of here and get to work.”
Ro-Lecton sniffed and slipped out the cabin door. Kor-Nashta started to follow, but was stopped by Kas.
“What do you really think, Doctor? Don’t worry, I won’t hold your opinions against you, or betray your confidence.”
She frowned, and paused to push an errant strand of hair from her angular face. “I don’t know what to tell you, Commodore. Are you asking my opinion of Doctor Ro-Lecton? Or my estimate of our chances for success?”
Kas returned her frown. “Both, I guess. Look, Doctor. Despite the fact that I think he’s a pompous ass, my opinion of Ro-Lecton is largely favorable. I suspect he’s a top scientist that got shanghaied into management and away from his science. But I am concerned that his technical knowledge may be out of date, or his instincts dulled.”
She shrugged. “Commodore, you know I’d be out of line to discuss my team leader with an outsider, even a Fleet Commodore.” Kas started to reply, but she continued, “But I like the way you dealt with him — firm but gentle. All right. Ver Ro-Lecton is probably the best scientific mind in the Empire. Certainly the best in the medical field. He single-handedly isolated and analyzed the plague on Acqueon. I’ve worked with a member of his team there. There was none of this nonsense of grabbing credit for his team’s accomplishments, either. The word is that Ro-Lecton deserved every bit of the credit he got.”
She sighed. “But, as you saw, in many ways he acts like a child. Oh, he’s not intentionally difficult, but he’s been away from lab work for so long that he’d almost forgotten how much he loves it. He thinks that being supercilious and demanding is the way to get things done, because it works on Prime.
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