Starbridge (33 page)

Rob's heart seemed to stop, and for one terrible instant he could not move.

Then his paralysis broke. Grabbing his medical bag, he raced to keep up with Dhurrrkk's four-footed bounds, his lungs laboring in the thin air.

Gasping, on the verge of blacking out, he skidded to a halt at the entrance to the hydroponics lab. Mahree lay sprawled half in and half out of the door, arms and legs twisted carelessly, as though she'd been picked up and flung by a giant hand. She wasn't breathing, and, when Rob touched her throat, there was no pulse.

Mahree was, at least for the moment, dead.

God, please, don't let me fail this time . . . let me save her, please, please . . .

Rob pressed a sensor patch into place on her temple. When it registered brain activity, he felt a surge of relief, but his elation was short-lived; a moment's glance revealed that the brainwave patterns were abnormal, scrambled, as though neurons were misfiring.

Not a stroke, not a heart attack--what the hell happened?
Somewhere in the back of his mind a timer was running, ticking off seconds.
Questions later.

First, get her heart beating, get her breathing again.
Rob took a deep, steadying breath, clearing his mind, then set to work.

Placing the oxy-pak over her mouth and nose, he verified that the nasal tubes positioned themselves properly. The cardio-pacer could not operate through many layers of cloth, so he slit her heavy robes and shirt open, then positioned the unit on her bare chest, setting it for cardio-pulmonary stimulation. Within seconds, Mahree began to gasp.

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Rob rechecked the brain sensor. Involuntary brain activity was returning to normal as the pacer unit regulated heartbeat and respiration.

As Mahree's heartbeat became stronger, evening out, and her breathing grew regular, Rob scanned the sensor for her body temperature. He frowned.
Shock . . . hypothermia . . . must prevent them by getting her warm.

He found his sheet, and unfolded it in the corridor. "Help me slide her out here, onto this," he told Dhurrrkk'. Once his patient was lying on top of it, he pulled the transparent length over her, sealed it, then slipped its hood up over her head to conserve body heat. After setting the temperature controls, Rob checked the sensor patch again.

The doctor had seen only one case resembling this one; that of a man who'd been struck by lightning. Some of the patient's brainwaves had produced readings like this. The man had survived . . . but with permanent brain damage.

"Dhurrrkk', her brain activity is not right," he said. "What the hell happened to her?"

"Doctor Blanket," the Simiu said. He glanced at the Avernian, visible through the open door. "FriendMahree asked it to alter the language channels in her mind, as it did for me. When it finally did so, she shook all over, then fell down."

"Doctor Blanket altered her
brain?"

"It did not wish to, FriendRob. It warned her--I warned her--but she insisted.

She wished to achieve better communication skills."

Recalling Mahree's depression of the past week, when she'd discovered that, try as she might, she could barely "talk" to the Avernian, Rob had no trouble believing Dhurrrkk's account.

Allowing sixty seconds for him to fetch me, she was "dead" for less than
three minutes,
Rob calculated, checking the "time- elapsed" reading on the sensor.
Not enough time for oxygen deprivation to impair the brain . . . under
normal circumstances, that is.

"Doctor Blanket is very sorry," Dhurrrkk' was continuing, after "listening" to the Avernian. "It tells me that it is doing everything it can to restore normal brain functioning."

Rob glanced again at the Avernian, tempted to tell the fungus- creature to keep its "alterations" to itself, but there was no doubt that Mahree's brain scans were showing increasingly normal activity, so he kept quiet.
How
could a telepath manage

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something like this?
he wondered.
Great-Aunt Louise sure couldn't . . .

Now that Mahree was out of immediate danger, Rob found that reaction to what had almost happened was setting in. Cold sweat slicked his forehead, and his hands began trembling so violently that he could barely adjust the temperature setting on the medical sheet. I
almost lost her. I could still lose
her.

"Will she be all right?" Dhurrrkk' asked, hovering over Mahree like an anxious mother.

"I don't know yet," Rob said. "She's breathing, and her heart is beating normally again, but her brain activity, while it's steadily improving, is
not
normal."

After a half hour, Rob unsealed the sheet to remove the oxy-pak and pacer.

He administered electrolytes and Vitastim, and watched her color improve.

The sensor was reporting normal brainwaves again.
She's going to live,
Rob thought. I
didn't fail--unless she has some kind of mental trauma the sensor
can't measure.

A few minutes later, Mahree's eyelids fluttered suddenly; she began to stir.

But when her eyes opened, she stared up at the doctor blankly, as though she'd never seen him before. Rob's heart sank.

"Mahree," he said, touching her cheek, "you're all right. Don't try to talk yet."

She rolled her eyes so she was staring at Dhurrrkk'.

"Mahree," Rob called, and felt his heart leap when she turned her head to regard him. "Honey . . ."he had to forcibly steady his voice, "if you can understand me, blink three times. Blink slowly, three times."

Her eyes closed, then opened.
One . . . two . . . three . . .
Her lips moved, shaped words he could barely hear. "Rob ... it hurt ... it was dark ..."

"I know," he said softly. "I want you to rest, okay? Sleep. You're going to be fine. I'm right here."

Moments later, her eyes closed. Rob checked the sensor again. Normal sleep.

"Thank you, thank you," he whispered, feeling hot tears break free and slide down his face. He wiped them off on his sleeve, then began repacking his medical bag. I
almost didn't bring it,
he remembered.
And if I hadn't . . . she'd
be dead, and

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my life would be . . . dark. Like a star that's burned itself out . . . dark and cold
and lifeless . . .

The truth had been staring him in the face for some time, he realized . . . but it had taken a near tragedy to bring it home to him. "Dhurrrkk'," he said, standing up, "I'm going to take her back to the control room. Can you carry my bag?"

"Certainly, FriendRob."

Rob scooped Mahree's limp form into his arms, and, gasping, straightened up. "Do you need help, FriendRob?" Dhurrrkk' asked anxiously. "The air is thin, and she must be heavy."

"No," Rob said, holding Mahree tightly, savoring her warm,
living
weight.

"She doesn't feel heavy at all."

There had been pain, that she knew. Then darkness. With the darkness had come peace, the cessation of pain. She had not wanted to come back, because the pain might be waiting.

This much Mahree remembered, before she opened her eyes.

She was lying in her sleeping place on
Rosinante's
bridge, and she was warm. Her body felt stiff, rather strange, but there was no pain, and that was reassuring.

She realized that she was wearing nothing but shorts. Clutching one of the Simiu coverings to her chest, she sat up.

The moment she stirred, there was a sound from the other side of the pilot's seat, then Rob appeared.

Mahree wet her lips. "Hi," she managed.

Silently, he ran his bio-scanner over her, then nodded. He reached out and pulled loose something that had been sticking to her temple. She saw that it was a sensor patch.

"Am I okay?" she asked.

"Apparently," he said, his voice quiet and over-controlled.

"Uh, can I get up? I have to go to the bathroom."

"I'll walk you down there," he said. "Get dressed."

He turned his back as she stood up and slipped her arms into the robe, pulling it tightly around her. "Where's Dhurrrkk'?"

"I sent him to the galley to get you some food," Rob replied. "I want you to eat something as soon as possible."

When they got back from the head, Mahree slipped on a shirt, then pulled her robes back on. She noticed that they had been slit down the chest, then clumsily repaired with the Simiu resin.

By then she was so ravenous that even the tasteless concentrate was almost palatable. All the while she ate and drank, Rob

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and Dhurrrkk' sat watching her intently, as though they were afraid she might disappear.

Finally, when the silence was more than she could stand, Mahree took a deep breath. "What happened to me?" she demanded. "I don't remember anything. I was trying to--"

"I know what you were trying to do," Rob said tightly. "Dhurrrkk' told me. You owe Doctor Blanket a sincere apology-- you nearly scared it into cardiac arrest, too. Not that it has a heart. But it was devastated by what happened."

"Oh, no," Mahree muttered, thinking of the fungus-being's gentle nature.

Then something else that he'd said penetrated. "I was in cardiac arrest?" she asked, in a quavering voice. "Don't you mean fibrillation?"

Rob's dark eyes did not waver. "Mahree," he said, still speaking in that ominous, too-quiet tone, "your heart was in arrest. No pulse. No heartbeat.

You were
dead."

"What happened?" she whispered, frightened.
Dead? Oh, my God!
"Why did my heart stop?"

"Whatever it was Doctor Blanket did to your brain, it affected you like being hit by a massive electric shock."

Mahree swal owed, hard. "I real y almost died?"

"There almost was no 'almost' about it," he said, and this time the too-even voice faltered slightly. "When I think of how close I came to forgetting to bring my medical kit along on this little jaunt--" He broke off, shaking his head.

"You saved me," she whispered. "Thank you, Rob."

Dhurrrkk' spoke for the first time. "I just informed Doctor Blanket that you are recovered. It is extremely relieved. Perhaps from now on you will believe it when it tells you that something you want is potentially dangerous."

Mahree gave her friend a rueful grimace. "In other words, 'I told you so.' I guess I deserve that."

Dhurrrkk' and Rob were staring at her, plainly astonished. Mahree blinked back at them. "What is it?" she said slowly.

"FriendMahree," Dhurrrkk' said slowly, "what language did you use just now when you were speaking to me?"

She frowned. "Uh . . . English?"

Dhurrrkk' shook his head slowly. "No," he said solemnly. "You addressed me in the same language that I used when I spoke to you--my own."

"But... but .. ." she stammered, staring from him to Rob, 213

who only nodded silent confirmation. "But that means that I
thought
in Simiu!

That at least part of Doctor Blanket's treatment was successful, if I could respond to you in the same tongue you used, without even having to think about it!"

"Yes," said Dhurrrkk'. "I am ... pleased ... for you, FriendMahree. But I still feel that what almost happened to you was too great a price to pay. When I thought you had ... if you had ..." the Simiu trailed off, eyes lowered, his crest flattening with remembered misery.

"FriendDhurrrkk'--" Mahree began, but the Simiu only turned around and left the bridge. "I guess he's pretty upset."

"Yes, he is," Rob agreed, still in the neutral, toneless voice. "He felt that he had somehow failed to effectively translate Doctor Blanket's warnings to you." His mouth tightened. "I reminded him that you can't be stopped when you set your mind on something, but I don't think it helped much."

Mahree swallowed. "It was my own fault, and I'll tell him so, and ask him to forgive me," she said in a small voice. I
owe Rob an apology, too. Not to
mention poor Doctor Blanket.

spoke a voice inside her head.

Doctor Blanket?
Mahree thought, scarcely believing what she was "hearing."

Is that you?

the Avernian replied.

later, when both of us are rested.>

The entire interchange had taken place in seconds. Rob was still looking at her, and saying, "I agree that an apology is in order. Where are you going?"

he asked as she started to rise.

"To find Dhurrrkk' and say I'm sorry."

Rob raised a hand, forestalling her. "You can talk to him later. I want you to rest today."

"I feel okay," Mahree said. "Almost back to normal."

"Almost," Rob repeated, still in that unnaturally calm voice that reminded Mahree of distant thunder. It had the same ominous overtones. "Well, when you feel one hundred percent recovered, please be sure and tell me."

"Why?" she said, unable to stop herself from asking.

His unnervingly calm mask vanished between one breath and the next.

"Because when you're fully recovered, I am going to
kill
you!" Rob cried, face flushing with anger, voice rising with

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every word. "How
could
you do something so dumb! That was the most idiotic--the
craziest
stunt you've ever pulled! I thought you had brains! Well, you damn near got them permanently scrambled!"

Now I've done it,
she thought, bowing her head before the onslaught. "I don't blame you for being angry," she said meekly, "it was a stupid thing to do, and I'm sorry, Rob."

He wasn't appeased. "If you'd wound up dead, what the hell were Dhurrrkk'

and I supposed to do when we reached Shassiszss? Without you, we'd be up shit creek.
You're
the human who can talk to these people without stopping for a translation every other sentence, not me, don't forget!"

"I saw a chance to get even better--" she began.

"It was too damned big a risk to take!" he interrupted. After a moment, he said quickly, "I thought we were a team. I thought you cared about us."