Second Wave (5 page)

Her shipmates were dead set against her returning to the mansion.

“You know the rules, Khorii,” Elviiz told her. “Every bit of cleansing work you do when you should be resting may mean one less sick person you can heal.”

“But I hardly heal anyone on those missions, Elviiz!” she protested. “The teams are so afraid I’ll get so tired that I won’t be able see the plague anymore that they won’t let me do anything else. You can tell by looking at my horn that I’m fine. I really am. If survivors blunder into an area as contaminated as this one, they could start the plague all over again. And you know how it mutates.”

She won, as she knew she would. Who was the one with the horn among them, after all? Who was the one who could see the plague? She was.

Besides, she didn’t think she would be taxing her horn at all going back in there. If the plague was gone, she’d have spent none of her horn’s energy except maybe to make the place smell better.

She didn’t win when she tried to persuade Elviiz to stay with the shuttle. He insisted that he come with her while the others returned to the
Mana
and secured Marl Fidd. Then the shuttle could return for Khorii and him. Khorii had to agree that this was a good plan. Although she hated to tell him
everything
since he already knew so much more than she did, his data-collecting capabilities would doubtlessly be helpful in trying to determine the various conditions in the atmosphere, aside from her horn’s power, that might have caused the plague to dissipate.

They began a systematic search of the mansion. She had previously glimpsed bodies in some of three rooms, but although the stench from them remained, the plague was not in those rooms either. And except for the skeletons and a few scraps of flesh and clothing, plus quite a lot of very fat insects, little remained of the corpses. Khorii was glad of that.

M
eanwhile, having collected the data and samples she requested, Elviiz decontaminated the kitchen. The android activated the water pump without the aid of the larger generator and pulled what seemed like a vein from his leg, pulling and pulling until it reached the required length, attached it to the faucet of the lake-sized sinks, and sprayed down the floor. It was made of a solid sheet of granite aggregate and sloped into a drain in the floor opposite the sinks, something Elviiz had noticed immediately that seemed to have escaped Marl’s attention during all of the many months he had remained in the room. Once the liquid waste was disposed of, Elviiz used his laser on a low setting to turn the solid waste to dust, which he also washed down the drain.

Which brought up an interesting question.

“Khorii?” His inquiry took her by surprise. She had stopped her serious work to decontaminate a closet containing gowns in a rainbow of fabrics. Many of their components were embellished with embroidery, beadwork, crystals, sequins, even real gemstones, and trimmed with ribbons, fur, fringe, lace, and strips of other embroideries. Khorii had apparently done a very thorough job of decontaminating the contents of a jewel chest, too, as many glittering and sparkling items of personal adornment lay spread and heaped upon a mirrored dressing table.

She looked up, her eyes shining in a way he had never seen any male’s shine. Their silvery color reflected the hues of the gowns and the sparkle of the trims and jewels. “The people these belonged to are dead, Elviiz. Do you think it would be wrong to take some of these beaded trims back to Captain Bates for her work? Not the valuable gems of course, just the beads and less precious things. Actually, perhaps it would be wise to collect the portable valuables and label them as coming from this place, then store them somewhere safe in the event that there are heirs wishing to claim them.”

Elviiz said, “That is a job for policemen, Khorii, not for healers. What about the septic systems?”

“What about them?” she asked, and then her face showed comprehension. “Oh.”

“Yes, I was disposing of Marl’s waste when it occurred to me that some infected material may have invaded the septic system and quite probably nearby waterways. Instead of cataloging the material possessions of the deceased, perhaps since you have decided to decontaminate this place, it would be good to include the septic areas and the waterways and water table serving this home and others in the area.”

He was no longer concerned that she would deplete her horn’s power. Although the horn’s cleansing powers required no conscious effort on the part of the Linyaari possessing it, Elviiz knew the postures Khorii assumed when she was deliberately performing the task, the facial expressions she assumed. So far, this house had not required her horn’s powers at all.

Elviiz tapped his chest com unit and informed the
Mana
that he and Khorii would be delayed somewhat longer.

U
pon awakening in his new quarters aboard the
Mana,
Marl Fidd spewed obscenities along with the contents of his stomach at his captors. They had him penned inside a huge cargo net, bolted to the deck and the bulkhead as it was for heavier loads. The mesh was too fine to climb and it rose twelve meters or so where it was attached to the ceiling. They’d kenneled him good, they had. Marl expressed his opinion with another selection from the extensive linguistic cesspit portion of his vocabulary.

The huge kid with the long black hair who was standing guard outside the net widened his eyes and shrugged. “
No hablo
Standard,
amigo,
” he said apologetically.

Marl wound down after that, not wishing to waste his energy and his gift for shockingly creative verbal expression on this stupid git. Instead, he looked around, getting his bearings. They’d strung up cargo nets to isolate him, but he was in the larger cargo hold aboard the supply ship. It was empty. None of the drugs he’d made the others load from the docks of Rio Boca remained, nor the supplies that had been aboard when he first boarded. All that remained of the cargo were the boxes that formed the walls of the makeshift graveyard the Hellstrom kid and the android had created for the
Mana
’s original crew. Hellstrom wanted to impress the girl, of course, but it wasn’t like she was going to give him anything for it. Lot of bother for nothing, in Marl’s opinion. Why not just space ’em? That’s what he’d have done.

He pantomimed being thirsty, needing a drink, and the big kid pointed at a bottle of water inside the makeshift jail.

Marl noted that the kid was not about to come right up to the net and seemed to be trying to hold his breath. That was understandable. To his surprise, Marl found he had been doing the same thing ever since he came to. He definitely was not looking or smelling his best, but that was Khorii’s fault. Going off like that without making sure he had water or power. Bloody inconsiderate alien cow.

Or mare or nanny goat, judging from her more exotic attributes. Those didn’t interest him at the moment, though he was sure she was nearby.

He pantomimed bathing to the kid next. The obliging oaf said something in his local gibberish over the com and got an answer in the same language. A short time later another big kid showed up with a bundle of clothes and some soap. Behind him was another carrying a huge hose. The first kid slipped the soap through the mesh with a flip so it landed where Marl could reach it. Then, without waiting for him to undress, the guard hosed him down with such a powerful blast it knocked him on his ass.

Marl swore again, and the kid aimed the blast at his head, nearly drowning him. Inhumane treatment of a prisoner that was. Definitely have to report the kid, though that was a laugh. Nobody to report anybody to left anymore. That was what Khorii and her gang didn’t get. They were on their own now. They made the rules. One of these days
he
would make the rules; and then this giant jerk had better watch out. Marl Fidd never had been one for reporting people so much as repaying them, with interest, for any injury, insult, or other failure to recognize that he was definitely a power to reckon with.

The kid didn’t get it for sure. He calmly waited until Marl undressed and soaped up, then hosed him again with definite glee.

The water shut off, and Marl stood there shivering as the puddle drained away into the deck’s recycling system. While his buddy watched, the big kid unbolted the edge of the net and pulled it aside far enough for him to give the bundle to Marl.

Once Marl’s hands were full, the kid immediately left again and re-bolted the net. This made a dandy brig, okay. Have to remember this arrangement when he took over the ship next time. Good holding pen for extra crew members he might need later.

The bundle was wrapped in a towel, which Marl used with one hand while keeping the clothing dry under his other arm. They could have at least put a bunk in here.

He opened the clothing bundle and another bottle of water and three nutrient bars fell to the deck. After the rich food he’d prepared for himself on the mansion’s gas range, this was a bit of a comedown. However, his head ached, and his stomach still roiled from the wine of the night before. He’d gone through the best years in the kitchen’s supply within the first couple of months. He had been down to the cooking sherry and was appalled that the mansion’s chef had been gypping his employers by using such inferior swill.

The clothes were not a bad fit, standard shipboard gear for most crewmen, and as soon as Marl was dressed again he fastidiously dried off a patch of deck close to the bulkhead and sat down to pull on the soft slippers thoughtfully included in his care package. Must be the doing of one of the females, he thought. Women fancied him, though ones like Jaya and Bates pretended to be disinterested or even repulsed. Just being coy, he reckoned. Sooner or later, one way or another, they’d all come around.

The big kid and his buddy sat down—
they
had cartons to sit on and one between them on which they began playing cards. He went over to the net to kibitz, for want of anything better to do, but all their remarks were in Spandard, and they ignored his.

He was so bloody bored with being
bored.

Wandering back to the water bottle and nutrient bars, he sat down and ate and drank the lot, despite his uneasy gut. He barely finished the last one before he was out like a light.

He wasn’t sure when he awakened that he actually was awake. Someone had put cuffs and leg irons on him and shackled them to the bulkhead. The second big kid was outside the net, his crate pushed up against the wall, his head drooping against his chest, fast asleep. No sign of the first kid.

The overhead lights were dimmed to conserve energy. The ship’s engines still hummed in the background, so they had not landed. Marl wondered where the frag they were taking him anyway. Back to Kezdet?

He hadn’t had any news the whole time he’d been in the mansion, hadn’t dared go out to try to learn anything else lest he get the plague. Once he began drinking himself to sleep, he’d often wondered just how well Khorii had cleaned the kitchen of plague anyway. He’d enjoyed some spectacular hangovers that made him think he was definitely about to die. But he had continued to live, and he wanted it that way. So he’d stayed put. What had happened in the meantime? If kids were standing guard over him, apparently the Federation cops were still out of commission.

This was no Federation brig either. Even if he hadn’t recognized the subtler features of the
Mana
’s cargo hold, the onboard boneyard was a—ha-ha—dead giveaway.

When he sneered in its general direction, which was when he saw the movement over there. Just movement, like air currents shifting which, naturally, they didn’t much on shipboard other than what came out of the ducts, and that wasn’t exactly active.

He kept watching. Maybe some of the water from the hose had dripped onto the mesh and was dripping down—maybe that’s what he saw. Maybe he needed his eyes checked.

But no, the floor around him was now totally dry, so the netting would be, too. It was plas-encased titanium, so it would have shed the water long ago.

He watched intently. He wanted to stand and go over to the net and peer through it to get a better look, but his legs had fallen asleep and, shackled as he was, he was on a rather short leash. Why did he bother about it anyway? Probably just one of the bloody cats using Jaya’s parents’ graves for a sandbox.

“Ssst,” he said, trying to wake his guard and for some stupid reason trying not to make much noise about it. Face it, he was desperate for entertainment.

The boy didn’t stir. Marl thought maybe his food or drink had contained a sedative so they could come in and chain him without any bother; but the way the guard was snoring, you’d have thought he was sedated, too.

A bunch of times, Marl had thought the mansion kitchen was a nightmare, and he’d wake up back on Maganos, but then sometimes he’d thought Maganos was a nightmare, too, and his life before that and before that. So this new nightmare wasn’t exactly startling. It was unusual though. Marl fancied himself well-grounded in reality, however nightmarish, and he didn’t usually see things that didn’t actually seem to be there.

Another movement caught his eye as the cargo bay hatch slid open and there was a soft plop followed by small muffled footsteps across the bay.

Marl saw the cat at the same time the cat saw him. The wretched thing was hard to see in profile, a gray-stippled cat against a gray shadow-stippled background. But when the cat turned its face toward him, its big gold eyes glittered with red in the dark.

Marl didn’t know why he hated this particular cat so much except that Khorii seemed to love it and it had a better life than he did overall. It didn’t deserve that. Whereas Khorii and other imbeciles saw small furry beasts as alternatively shaped stuffed pandas, to pet and cuddle and play with, Marl had always been interested in how tough they were to catch, how loud they screamed, how fast they stopped when he took them apart. They were things to him.

Objects. Practice.

But this one was different. Why?