The Ship Who Sang (14 page)

‘Help me, Davo,' Kurla cried, as the crowd was shut from view. She threw her arm around the Solar's waist as the man's large frame seemed to collapse against her.

‘Damn fool,' Davo muttered, but he used extreme care in assisting . . . as if he were concerned about hurting Prane.

‘I'm all right. I'm all right,' Prane insisted in a hoarse whisper.

‘That farewell party was madness in your condition and in full grav,' Kurla said.

‘The hero must have a hero's farewell,' drawled Ansra Colmer. The smile on her face as she turned toward them was sincere now, sincerely vicious; and her eyes sparkled with intense pleasure at Prane's debility.

‘The hero is not yet on his shield, Ansra,' the Solar replied, almost as if he relished the notion of defying her. He put Kurla from him, touched Davo's supporting hand, which fell away, and slowly, carefully crossed the cabin.

‘Misfire, Ansra?' Davo asked, following the Solar at a discreet interval.

‘Ansra's steel gives me backbone,' the Solar chuckled, and Helva could have sworn, again, that these bitter undercurrents were therapeutic. The Solar's medical attendant evidently did not agree.

‘That is quite enough,' she said with a professional impersonality and, disregarding Prane's independence, threw an arm around his waist and supported him the rest of the way toward the couch. ‘This ought to be a shock-mattress,' she said, flipping back the mesh blanket. ‘Good.' Deftly, she turned the Solar, easing him down to the bed. She then extracted a medical recorder from the pouch at her side. Her expression was detached and her eyes intent as she ran a check on him.

Helva peeked at the dials and gauges and was a little puzzled by some of the readings. The heart strain was not at all excessive, although the pulse was rapid from exertion. The blood pressure was too low for someone under stress, and too high for a man apparently used to low grav conditions. The more perplexing reading was the eeg. Prane was trembling now with reaction to extreme muscular stress: supine, he looked old and tired.

‘What are you giving me now, Kurla?' he demanded sharply, rousing as he saw her preparing an i.v. spray.

‘A relaxant and . . .'

‘No sedations, no blocks. I forbid it.'

‘I'm the medical attendant, Solar Prane,'
she said in a firm, impersonal voice.

His hand trembled as he grabbed for her wrist, but Helva could see the fingers pressed deeply into her flesh. Kurla Ster looked him directly in the eye.

‘You cannot tolerate liftoff without some sedation, after exerting yourself for that party . . .'

‘Give me the relaxant, Kurla, but nothing more. I can cope with the discomfort . . . alone. Once in space, the pilot can adjust the gravity.'

It was a contest of wills, with Davo an interested spectator. Curiously enough, Helva noticed that Davo had been on Prane's side, judging by the sigh the man exhaled as the young m.a. replaced the other vials to her pouch and injected but one medication.

‘Where is that pilot?' she demanded of Davo as she left the cabin, sliding the door firmly shut behind her.

‘Pilot?' Ansra Colmer repeated, idly swinging the pilot's chair on its gimbals. ‘You were too engrossed in adoring worship of the Solar's classic profile to heed what journey briefing we received.'

‘Oh, for Christ's sake, Ansra, sheathe your claws. You're becoming a bore,' Davo said, propelling Kurla to a seat with a warning smile. ‘This is a brain ship, Kurla. No other pilot is necessary. We need only settle ourselves down for the trip.'

‘Miss Colmer, if you don't . . .'

‘And be quiet,' Davo added firmly to Kurla, his
hand on her forearm, cautioning obedience. ‘The sooner we take off, the better it is for Prane, right?'

She subsided, still rebellious. To aggravate matters, Ansra Colmer smiled triumphantly at her capitulation.

‘Let's go,' Davo said, nodding over his shoulder toward Helva.

‘Thank you, Mr Fillanaser, and welcome aboard the XH-834,' Helva said quietly, achieving an impersonal tone with some difficulty. ‘Fasten your harness for takeoff.' Ansra Colmer interrupted her swinging only long enough to comply. ‘Miss Ster, may I inquire if Solar Prane's disability will be affected by standard takeoff velocities?'

‘Not when he is cushioned by the shock-mattress.'

‘And by drugs,' added Ansra snidely.

‘Solar Prane is not under sedation,' the m.a. snapped, trying to rise, and restrained by her harness.

‘Ansra, leave her alone! Prane is not on drugs and never has been!'

‘I am receiving clearance for lift-off,' Helva said, mendaciously forestalling another exchange. She even leaked a little engine noise into the main speakers.

As she began to jockey into position, Helva kept an eye on Prane. He was cushioned by the shock-mattress all right, but if he could barely tolerate full grav, blast-off would rack him with
pain. She decided a fast take-off would spare him more than a gradual acceleration. She piled on the power and watched him black out from pain in a brief minute.

The instant she was free of Duhr's attraction and on course for Regulus, she cut all thrust, even the little spin she usually maintained for the comfort of her passengers. He was unconscious, but the pulse in his throat beat regularly.

‘I've got to get to him,' Kurla was saying in the main cabin.

When Helva looked there, the medical attendant was ludicrously flattened against the far wall of the main cabin.

‘Then move slowly,' Davo was advising her. ‘You've been in half-grav long enough to know violent action brings equally violent reaction.'

‘If you only knew how asinine you looked,' Ansra said.

‘Solar Prane passed out before maximum thrust, Miss Ster,' Helva reported, ‘but he appears in no distress.'

‘I must get to him.' Kurla was insistent. ‘His bones are so soft.'

An orthopedic problem? And he was permitted in space? Were they out of their minds? Then why such cerebral excitement?

‘Shall I return gravity? The shock-web will . . .'

‘No, no,' Kurla protested.

‘If you think I'm going to travel free-fall all the way to Regulus, you've another think coming,' Ansra said, the amusement wiped from her face.

‘The longer he has without any gravitic stress . . .'

‘Too bad,' Ansra snapped back. ‘I know what happens to
me
in constant free-fall and I'm not having . . .'

‘Flabby muscles, dear?' Davo grinned at her. ‘You can always join us in a thrilling workout of isometrics. And you'd better get used to free-fall. You certainly heard it mentioned in our briefing . . . since you're so attentive to briefings . . . that the company will play entirely in free-fall. Get used to it.'

‘I also heard it mentioned that our minds were what would be transferred. It's my body that's involved at present.'

‘And it's Solar Prane's body that must rest now,' Kurla flung back, managing to move forward toward the cabin. ‘He
is
only the director of the entire company.'

‘In the interests of compromise, ladies,' Davo said, ‘let's use half-grav while we're awake, and free-fall when we're all snugly meshed in at night and don't know any better.'

‘Can that be arranged?' Kurla looked hopeful. ‘The unit had to be kept at half full grav on Duhr because of the power required.'

‘Half grav suit your gracious supremacy?' Davo asked Ansra mocking her with a bow.

‘He won't last, half-grav or free fall,' she said, grimacing as she heard the cabin door click shut behind Kurla.

Ansra flipped off the harness, twisting in the
chair for the most comfortable position from which to regard Davo unobstructedly.

‘I don't know why you continue to defend a dying man, Davo. Don't argue; his mind has been affected. I can see it. Don't forget, I knew him rather well.' Her smile suggested many intimacies. ‘And it's his mind that must be transferred.' Suddenly her whole attitude changed subtly. ‘Had you never considered being more than just a supporting actor, Davo?'

Helva took a closer look at the man. She'd thought him a friend or assistant of Prane's, not another actor. He had none of the obvious professional mannerisms the other two displayed.

‘You've an excellent reputation in the Guild as a fine classicist,' Ansra was saying. ‘Why do you continue to let Prane dominate and dictate your life?'

Davo regarded her imperturbably for a moment before he smiled carelessly. ‘I happen to respect Prane Liston professionally and personally . . .'

Ansra made a rude noise. ‘You've fronted for him like an understudy on matinee day. Taken his lectures while he “experimented” in nullgrav movement! Ha! Covered for him so the rank and file would not know their hero's frailties!'

‘My motives are not as suspect as yours, detouring two months away from your last engagement to “visit” your old friend, Prane Liston? Ha for you.'

Helva detected the flush of anger under the woman's cosmetized skin.

‘My visit, Davo Fillanaser, was most opportune,' she replied with a saccharine smile. ‘And according to our briefing, once one is transferred to the . . . how was it phrased, empty envelope? . . . to the envelope awaiting each of us on Beta Corvi, external appearance will not matter. Ability will. I always thought you showed poor judgement to opt for the classics, Davo, for you have such a lean and hungry look that you must always be lago or Cassius. You could be . . . Romeo . . . on Beta Corvi.' Her smile was dazzling.

‘Not, of course, while Prane Liston remains director
and
Romeo, huh?' Davo leaned toward her, his eyes sparkling, but his lean, dark face inscrutable. ‘You won't believe the truth, even when you hear it, will you, Ansra? And you just can't believe that Prane Liston is no longer besotted with Ansra Colmer.'

‘
That
is not at issue,' she said, with lofty indifference.

Davo merely smiled. He leaned back in the couch and matched her mood. ‘You've got your own director lined up, huh? One who'll let Juliet dominate? Then, with a grateful but weak Romeo like me, you'll look twice as good without having to work half as hard as Prane makes you. Oh, come off it, Ansra,' he advised, impatient with her machinations. ‘Prane always could drag the very best performances out of your lazy hide.

‘But that's not important, not in this production. There's more at stake than your self-consequence. Or did you really listen to the briefing at all? Those Beta Corviki can regulate the half-life of any unstable isotope they choose. If Central Worlds gets such techniques, it'll revolutionize pile-drives and get us across the galactic seas . . .' He paused, gave a derisive laugh. ‘Why, if our pretty prancing pleases them, you might play in the Horsehead Nebula next season, Ansra Colmer. Or,' and his eyes narrowed speculatively, ‘should I say, Solara Ansra?'

‘Then think carefully, Davo,' she urged, her pose alert and tense, ‘of
all
that is involved. I don't care for altruism: it signs no contracts and pays no salaries. I wouldn't have considered this tour for a moment if it weren't for that Corviki transfer device.'

Davo stared at her with such sharp attention that she smiled slightly.

‘Really, Davo, what possible significance could things like those Corviki find in Romeo and Juliet, an outmoded love story of an improbable social structure.'

‘You're more the hypocrite than even I'd thought you.'

‘Delusions are what we create, not what we believe. And, with a mind-blasted Romeo, the whole thing would be worthless but for those transfer things. Why, if that device can work in a methane-ammonia atmosphere, it can work
anywhere. It could open a whole new audience dimension . . .'

‘And Solara Ansra as top-ranking performer in the new medium?' Davo asked, his dark eyes intent on hers.

Helva wondered if he had caught the fallacy in her argument.

‘Why not? I don't need to be an m.a. to see Prane's dying. He's so weak he'll dissolve under pressure. Why, his headbones are so soft with mindtrap . . .'

‘Bones, yes, but not his brain . . .' Davo snapped. ‘And not mine.
I
remember what I owe the man, dead or dying, and I'm with him all the way. Remember that, Ansra Colmer. And if you don't ease needling that nice child, if you don't prove to me that you're going to integrate into the company, I'll cite a jeopardy clause on you. There
is
too much at stake in this farout dramatic mission to risk a dissident among us. The computers picked Prane, remember, on the basis of performance and ability. With all his medical handicap, he still came out the highest on the probability profile. You shape up, Ansra, or I'll give the computers a few bits of psychodata on you to update your profile.'

He swung himself from the chair far too energetically for the half-grav and bounded toward the ceiling. He corrected and slow-stepped toward the galley.

‘Auto-pilot, erase the previous conversation between myself and Davo Fillanaser,' Ansra
commanded in a hard, angry voice. ‘Is that order clear?'

‘Yes,' Helva replied, careful to sound dry and mechanical.

‘Comply. Which cabin has been assigned to me?'

‘Number Two.'

As Helva watched the erect figure of the actress undulate down the corridor, she felt an odd, atavistic satisfaction in having lingered for refurbishing at Nekkar and in knowing that her interior was, as always, in order: shipshape.

It was not a pleasant evening, certainly not what Helva had anticipated when the orders were taped in. Davo was silent and hyper-alert, watching Kurla and Ansra, unobtrusively passing Prane's open cabin frequently. Kurla was distressed though she tried to conceal it. Helva, however, had heard Prane reject medical assistance, and, by her sensors, knew he was feigning sleep to prevent argument. Ansra's sullen cold looks followed the young medical attendant everywhere. Helva spoke only when spoken to, accepting the part of an automated ship, though Davo presumably knew what she was.