Shadows In Still Water (5 page)

The hallway erupted in a storm of accusations and threats, with Conlin bellowing for order above it all. Pulling his bundle closer to his chest, Jak pushed his way out of the crowd. He felt the warmth of a hand on his back and looked around to see Millie following close on his heels. Keeping his head down, he soon made it to the elevator.

“Whew,” said Millie in the sudden quiet as the doors slid shut. “Leave it to Aura to start a riot and walk away.”

“At least we’ve found the carrier. This little guy is probably full of germs.”

“You’ve had box pox haven’t you?”

“A long time ago. No worse than a few mosquito bites.” He yawned and shifted the wemrat which moved only slightly. He could feel its sides heaving as it breathed in and out. “What a lot of trouble for a six-inch fur ball.”

“We should have the cargo testing finished up in about half-an-hour,” Millie said, stepping out of the elevator as the door opened on the docking bay.

Jak stepped out and headed for the
Pasteur
’s airlock. “I’m going to take the wemrat to the lab,” he told Millie who nodded and stopped to talk to Zimbin.

The corridors of the hospital ship were empty and dimly-lighted with the ship on life-support power only. Jak hurried to the elevator which carried him two decks up from the airlock. The lab was a large, square facility divided into twenty sections which were fully stocked laboratories themselves, each one having its own special function. Just three sections in the center of the room were lit up as Jak entered.

“Rob, you in here?” Jak called, walking to the first lighted section.

Rob Keller came sliding into view as he shoved his seat out into the walkway. He had asked Jak earlier to be excused from cargo testing as he had some other work to do. He leaned his head back and looked up at Jak. “What can I do for you, boss?”

Jak held out his shirt, “Test this little critter for me.”

Keller’s eyebrows went skyward. “Uh, you may be real attached to that, sir, and I really hate to tell you this. But that’s a piece of cloth.”

Rolling his eyes, Jak shook his head, “No! It’s a wemrat, look.” Carefully, he pulled the shirt back to show him the animal’s head. The wemrat let out a shriek and jerked its body. Jak almost dropped it into Keller’s lap.

“Whoa!” Rob exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “I got bit by one of those things once. Worst infection I ever had.”

“Not the cleanest animals in the galaxy,” Jak replied, and flipped the wemrat into an empty glass isolation tank on top of Keller’s desk. He yanked the shirt out from around it and slammed the lid. “Test it for raphrydia and anything else while you’re at it. When you’re done, clean it up, okay? I’m going to check on a couple of patients then I’ll be back.” Keller nodded but didn’t seem too thrilled with his task.

Jak took the elevator one level up to the patient wards. Most patients were seen in the big treatment bays that looked like hangar decks with row after row of cots with portable carts that carried all the standard equipment necessary for most procedures. When the
Pasteur
made a stop, patients were treated and released. Only those who needed extended care traveled with them. This trip only four patients inhabited the wards. Jak checked in briefly with the doctor on call, visited each patient and headed back to the lab. Just as he stepped back onto the elevator his comm-link beeped. Three green numbers blinked up at him from the tiny screen. Four, five, three His heart skipped a beat as usual, seeing those familiar figures. He tapped the button for the uppermost deck on the ship instead of the lab level. He would take this call in his quarters.

His room stood at the opposite end of the hall from Aurelia’s, both having corner rooms with large portholes. Several other doctors and crew members had the inner rooms. As his door slid shut behind him, he didn’t even take his usual look at the spectacular view of the orange globe that was Jidal IV, but hurried over to his desk which was built into the wall to the left. All of the furniture was built in, including the bed which looked like a wide shelf beneath the porthole. The open floor space was littered with last night’s dishes, three t-shirts, a couple of computer tabs and about a month’s worth of dirty socks.

Jak kicked some of it to either side so it couldn’t be seen from the monitor on his desk. He pulled his link off his belt, slicked his hair back quickly using the screen as a mirror then shoved the link into the slot for it on the computer. Waiting for the call to come through, he noticed the red light flashing on the keyboard. Paperwork piling up again, he thought with a grimace then promptly forgot about it as the monitor clicked on.

The screen showed a female Kaprinian sitting bolt upright in a square, black chair, her long blue hair pulled tightly back in a braid, her antennae set in two prim lines. The room was darkened behind her making it impossible to see anything of her surroundings. “You didn’t check in as soon as the
Pasteur
docked at Davis,” Co-lanen Kentala spoke rapidly in her soft, cool voice without preamble.

“I haven’t had time. We’ve been testing since we got here. Gedden,” Jak swore. He should have known she would be like this. She had acted exactly the same with every call in the last five years. He had no idea why he always hoped for something different. He drew in a breath and sat down in his chair with the back of it facing him.

“You need to check in with the Kaprinian Consulate as soon as you arrive,” Co-lanen directed.

“I know. Like I said I haven’t had a chance.”

See that you do so at the first opportunity,” Co-lanen abruptly signed off.

Jak stared at the blank screen. She hadn’t even asked how he was doing. Although the question had become quite perfunctory on her part these last few years at least she usually asked. Give it up, Rialus, he told himself and stood to his feet, pulling out his link and snapping it back on his belt. He still had work to do, so he shoved all thoughts of Co-lanen back to their usual spot in the back of his head and returned to the lab.

This time Jak almost ran into Keller who was on his way out. “Tried to call you but it was busy,” the man said. He jerked his thumb back toward his desk. “It’s carrying raphrydia all right. The great box pox mystery is solved.”

“Clean him up?” Jak asked.

Keller nodded, “All clear. Irradiated him from head to toe. His own mother wouldn’t know him now.”

“Thanks, Rob.” The tech nodded again and walked out the door. Jak moved on to the desk. The wemrat looked up at him from the isolation tank. Shaking his head, Jak tapped the glass. “You sure caused a lot of headaches.” He fought back a yawn. “I can’t even tell you when I slept last.” At the sound of footsteps, Jak poked his head out of the enclosure. He found himself face to face with Althan Tahk, the Kosapi. He couldn’t quite control the quick flicker of his antennae. He knew the Kosapi had seen it as an evil grin split the Kaprinian’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Jak asked, forcing his voice to be calm and without anger.

“You like your human half don’t you?” Tahk asked the question as if he were actually curious to know the answer.

Jak struggled to keep himself from punching the stranger. Not a good idea, he warned himself. Although no weapons were visible, the Kosapi was probably carrying a small arsenal and probably didn’t need one anyway. “You are not supposed to be here, sir. If I have to I will call security.”

“Sir. I like that. You can continue to call me that. I was looking for that sweet little nurse, what is her name? Millie?”

“Stay away from Millie.”

“Oh? Got an eye on her yourself? The other one, the doctor, she’s not too bad either.”

“Touch either one of those ladies and this whole galaxy won’t be big enough to hide you.”

The Kosapi laughed in his face. His eyes darkened then and his voice dropped an octave lower. “Do not threaten me, kashen. Someday I will take the time to teach you your place.” He reached out with his thumb and index finger and flicked Jak’s antenna, sending a vibration of pain shooting down into his head. Jak just managed not to wince. Laughing, the Kosapi stepped back on the elevator.

“Gedden,” Jak swore out loud. He felt as if he were ten years old again and surrounded by all the older Kaprinian boys who used to pick on him. In fact, Co-lanen had been the only person in the whole school who had ever treated him with any respect at all. And now she seemed to want to distance herself from him as much as possible.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to clear his thoughts. He needed to sleep.

Opening his comm-link, Jak called the guard on duty at the airlock. “Make sure that Kaprinian with the twisted antennae gets off the ship,” he instructed. “Why’d you let him on board?”

“No one’s come through here except yourself, sir,” the guard replied. He paused then said in a bewildered tone. “Here he comes now. But I sure didn’t let him on, sir.”

“Make sure he gets off and don’t let him on again,” Jak said. He returned his link to his belt. What was the Kosapi up to? Jak shook his head as he went to his quarters. He was too tired to think.

Bridget flopped on her stomach onto the couch in one of Davis’s employee lounges, her right hand dangling to the floor. Torp and Steve claimed the two stuffed chairs while Miguel headed for the vending machines.

“Ohhh,” Bridget moaned. “I’m sore, I’m hungry, I’m dirty and I’m never going to get this smell out of my hair.”

“Cargo testing. They never put that in the college catalogs,” Torp muttered.

Stretching out his long legs, Steve gave a short, unamused laugh, “I certainly never expected to be doing drudge work.”

“Oh, come on, Steve. Everybody else was working harder than we were,” Bridget pointed out.

Miguel pulled out one of the chairs at the round table and sat down, unloading an armload of snacks and drinks. Tossing a bag of chips at Steve, he said, “Here, Miller, feed your face instead of flapping it. What do you want, Brid?”

Bridget lifted her head with a hopeful look on her face, “Do they have those square noodly things with cheese?”

“What do you think this is a gourmet restaurant? Have some chips.” Miguel tossed another bag that landed on Bridget’s back.

Torp got up and wandered over to pick through the selections. He chose a candied orange slice and a bottle of something called Conja Juice.

Bridget finally sat up and started munching. “So, Torp,” she said around a mouthful, “I thought you weren’t taking this internship?”

“I wasn’t going to when I thought we were supposed to be on the Hippocrates.” Torp replied. “But when they changed it to the
Pasteur
, I couldn’t pass up the chance. Did you know every doctor on board has published at least one article in the Corona Medical Journal? I was impressed.”

“That zinetape isn’t that exclusive anymore; any kodo with a degree from the Theta University can get in these days,” Steve Miller retorted. “Like that schlutz who wrote that piece of tripe a couple of months ago about Cassopian pheromones being able to affect major organs.”

“Dr. Seran Nevlare wrote that article and she knows more about endocrinology than you’d ever be able to grasp in three lifetimes,” remarked Bridget.

“As much as I hate to agree with Miller,” said Torp, “I have to say that article seemed weak in data to me. She talked about these smells affecting a Matian tangle beetle heart.”

“Yeah, that heart has three layers of protection tough as kedellium plus a lattice structure,” Miguel joined the argument; he had written his sophomore term paper on tangle beetles.

Bridget shook her head, flipping her dark red hair across her shoulders, “What do you mean smells, you nidge! Those are real, airborne chemicals.”

“How could chemicals used as a signaling system possibly cause harm to organic material?” Torp asked in a disbelieving voice.

Scrunching up her empty bag, Bridget looked around at her fellow students. “Have any of you ever met a Cassopian?” she asked. All shook their heads. “Hmmm, I thought not. They’ve got some incredible adaptations, in fact, I...”

“Speaking of adaptations, I’m glad the
Pasteur
has a gravity generator. I don’t know how those guys on the
Phoenix
stand zero g all the time,” Miguel interrupted. He had learned that the only way to shut Brid up on one of her favorite subjects was to stop her before she really got going.

Bridget blinked her gray eyes at him. “They all take Namzerol three times a day.”

“Yeah, but they don’t last that long. They’re all young. Commander Zelan’s only in his thirties. He’ll probably retire in ten years.”

“Yeah with a nice tidy pension,” said Torp then grinned, “But doctors make more in this business, right?”

“More chips, Brid?” Miguel asked quickly, seeing Bridget gearing up for an argument on profit versus patient care.

“Give me something to drink please. Those chips were...” Bridget paused as the door slid open.

Dr. Aurelia stood there. She looked surprised and stayed still for a moment, her foot keeping the door open as if she might have to make a quick exit. Finally, she limped forward to the machines. The door swished closed in the now silent room.

“Uh, Doctor Aurelia?” Miguel ventured to speak.

Aurelia turned to look at him, the dark circles made her eyes almost seem to glow. She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re welcome to anything here,” Miguel said, waving a hand toward the pile of snacks on the table.

“None of it’s chocolate,” she said with sort of a half smile. “Thanks anyway.” Sliding her PEF card into the machine, Aurelia collected two chocolate Razo bars. She limped to the door then stopped. “The
Pasteur
will be leaving at 0800 tomorrow morning. I want you to understand that we are not exactly prepared to handle students. We’re not a teaching facility. I am not in complete agreement with the board of directors about this program. Be that as it may, I’m assigning Dr. Sshn’LRuh, our chief resident, to oversee you. Please report to her as soon as you get on board. I expect there to be no problems.” She stopped, looked like she was going to say more but instead turned and walked out.

Miguel ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a loud breath. “Get the feeling she doesn’t like us?”

“I get the feeling this internship program isn’t as organized as the recruiter made it out to be,” said Steve.

“I’ll bet they had it set up with the Hippocrates and had to switch at the last minute for some reason,” Torp replied.

“Who cares?” declared Bridget. “I’d rather be on the
Pasteur
anyway. Like her or not, Dr. Aurelia is one of the best xenosurgeons around. I hope we get to see her in surgery.”

“I’m still calling my advisor at M.U.,” Steve muttered.

Bridget flicked a chip at him.

“Hey, stop that,” Steve ordered, swiping the chip off his pants, onto the floor.

Miguel and Torp grinned at each other. In a moment, the air was thick with chips and little lumps of balled up wrappers.

“Steve Miller, you have a message in the C.C. Steve Miller, you have a message.” The announcement cut into the laughter and other sounds from the chip battle.

Steve looked a little uncertain. “Who’d be calling me? And where is the C.C.?”

“There’s a monitor over there by the machines. You could probably get your message from there,” suggested Torp.

After some fiddling and some not so helpful advice from the other three, Steve contacted one of the desk clerks in the Communications Center. She transferred the message to the monitor in the lounge.

In a moment the screen blinked on to reveal his father. Robert Miller was a big man with a blond crew cut, pale blue eyes and a square-jawed, ruggedly handsome face. Except for the length of his hair, his son could only grow to look more and more like him. “Hey, son, how do you like Davis?” he asked in a cheerful voice.

“How’d you know I was here?” Steve asked.

“Word gets around,” Robert replied. “Lots of people up there this week.”

“What do you want, Dad?”

Looking over his shoulder, Robert replied absentmindedly, “Can’t a guy call his son just to say hi?” He turned back around and smiled. “I would appreciate it if you could let me know if and when Renner Conlin is planning to step planetside.”

“How am I supposed to do that? Follow him around?”

“Just keep your eyes and ears open. I have some business with Conlin. No big deal.”

Steve folded his arms across his chest. “It’s always a big deal with you, Dad. The
Pasteur
is leaving tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Is it? Well, if you happen to hear anything between now and then let me know. See you later, son.” Robert Miller signed off.

“You didn’t call and tell your Dad you were here?” Bridget asked.

“It’s none of your business, O’Connor,” Steve snapped back.

Bridget stared at him. “You don’t have to be such a nidge about it.”

Miguel jumped up and started clearing debris off the table. “I’ve still got junk to transfer from the
Phoenix
to the
Pasteur
,” he announced.

So it seemed did everyone else. After cleaning up, they all exited the lounge en masse, each a little nervous about their new adventure.