Tags: #none
No. But she's emotionally all tied up with him and that's worse
.
If he had been disappointed by the Captain's lack of
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response to the flint knife, Major Frazer's response left nothing to be desired.
"I've been saying since we landed that this world was habitable," he said, turning the knife over in his
hands, "and here's proof that it's inhabited--by something intelligent, at least."
"Humanoid?" MacAran asked, and Frazer shrugged. "How could we know that? There have been intelligent life-forms reported from three or four other planets; so far they have reported one simian, one feline, and three un classifiable--xenobiology isn't my specialty. One artifact doesn't tell us anything--how many shapes are there that a knife could be designed in? But it fits a human hand well enough, although it's a little small."
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Meals for crew and passengers were served in one large area, and when MacAran went for hisnoon meal he hoped to see Camilla; but she came in late and went directly to a group of other crewmembers. MacAran could not catch her eye and had the distinct feeling that she was avoiding him. Whilehe was morosely eating his plateful of rations, Ewen came up to him.
"Rafe, they want us all at a Medical meeting if you have nothing else to do. They're trying to analyze
what happened to us."
"Do you honestly think it will do any good, Ewen? We've all been talking it over--"
Ewen shrugged. "Mine is not to reason why," he said. "You're not under the authority of the Medic
staff, of course, but still--"
MacAran asked, "Were they very rough on you about Zabal's death?"
"Not really. Both Heather and Judy testified that we were all out of contact. But they want your
report, and everything you can tell them about Camilla."
MacAran shrugged and went along with him.
The Medic meeting was held at one end of the hospital tent, half empty now--the more seriouslyinjured had died, the less so had been restored to duty. There were four qualified doctors, half a dozennurses, and a few assorted scientific personnel to listen to the reports they made.
After listening to all of them in turn, the Chief Medical Officer, a dignified white-haired man named
Di Asturien,
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said slowly, "It sounds like some form of airborne infection. Possibly a virus."
"But nothing like that turned up in our air samples," MacLeod argued, "and the effect was more like
that of a drug..
"An airborne drug? It seems unlikely," Di Asturien said, "although the aphrodisiac effect seems to have been considerable also. Do I correctly assume that there was some sexual stimulation effect on all of you?"
Ewen said, "I already mentioned that, sir. It seemed to affect all three of us--Miss Stuart, Dr. MacLeod and myself. It had no such effect on Dr. Zabal to my knowledge, but he was in a moribundcondition."
"Mr. MacAran?"
He felt for some strange reason embarrassed, but before Di Asturien's cool clinical eyes he said,
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"Yes, sir. You can check this with Lieutenant Del Rey if you like."
"Hm. I understand, Dr. Ross, that you and Miss Stuart are currently paired in any case, so perhaps
we can discount that. But Mr. MacAran, you and the Lieutenant--"
"I'm interested in her," he said steadily, "but as far as I know she's completely indifferent to me. Even hostile. Except under the influence of-of whatever happened to us." He faced it, then. Camilla had not turned to him as a woman to a man she cared for. She had simply been affected by the virus, or drug, or whatever strange thing had sent them all mad. What to him had been love, to her had been madness--and now she resented it.
To his immense relief the Medic Chief did not pursue the subject. "Doctor Lovat?"
Judy did not look up. She said quietly, "I can't say. I can't remember. What I think I remember may
very well be entirely delusion."
Di Asturien said, "I wish you would co--operate with us, Dr. Lovat "
"I'd rather not" Judy went on fingering something in her lap, and no persuasion could force her to say
any more.
Di Asturien said, "In about a week, then, we'll have to test all three of you for possible pregnancy."
"How can that be necessary?" Heather asked. "I, at least, am taking regular anti shots. I'm not sure
about Camilla,
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but I suspect crew regulations require it for anyone between twenty and forty-five."
Di Asturien looked disturbed. `"That's true," he said, "but there is something very peculiar which we
discovered in a Medic meeting yesterday. Tell them, Nurse Raimondi."
Margaret Raimondi said, "I'm in charge of keeping records and issuing contraceptive and sanitarysupplies for all women of menstrual age, both crew and passengers. You all know the drill; every twoweeks, at the time of menstruation and halfway between, every woman reports for either a single shot ofhormone or, in some cases, a patch strip to send small doses of hormones into the blood, which suppressovulation. There are a total of one hundred and nineteen women surviving in the right age bracket, whichmeans, with an average arbitrary cycle of thirty days, approximately four women would be reportingevery day, either for menstrual supplies or for the appropriate shot or patch which is given four days afteronset of menstruation. It's been ten days since the crash, which means about one-third of the womenshould have reported to me for one reason or the other. Say forty."
"And they haven't been," Dr. Di Asturien said. "How many women have reported since the crash?"
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"Nine;" said Nurse Raimondi grimly. "
Nine
. This means that two-thirds of the women involved have had their biological cycles disrupted on this planet--either by the change in gravity, or by some hormone disruption. And since the standard contraceptive we use is entirely keyed to the internal cycle, we have no way of telling whether it's effective or not."
MacAran didn't need to be told how serious this was. A wave of pregnancies could indeed beemotionally disruptive. Infants--or even young children--could not endure interstellar FTL drive; andsince the universal acceptance of reliable contraceptives, and the population laws on overcrowded Earth,a wave of feeling had made abortion completely unthinkable. Unwanted children were simply neverconceived. But would there be any alternative here?
Dr. Di Asturien said, "Of course, on new planets women are often sterile for a few months, largely
because of the changes in air and gravity. But we can't count on it"
MacAran was thinking;
if Camilla is pregnant, will she hate me?
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The thought that a child of theirs might have to be destroyed was frightening. Ewen asked soberly, "What are we going to do, Doctor? We can't demand that two hundred adult men and women take avow of chastity!"
"Obviously not. That would be worse for mental health than the other dangers," Di Asturien said, "but we must warn everyone that we're no longer sure about the effectiveness of our contraceptive program."
"I can see that. And as soon as possible."
Di Asturien said, "The Captain has called a mass meeting tonight--crew
and
colonists. Maybe I canannounce it there." He made a wry face. "I'm not looking forward to it. It's going to be an awfullydamned unpopular announcement. As if we didn't have enough troubles already!"
The mass meeting was held in the hospital tent, the only place big enough to hold the crew andpassengers all at once. It had begun to cloud over by midafternoon and when the meeting was called, athin fine cold rain was falling and distant lightning could be seen over the peaks of the hills. The membersof the exploring party, sat together at the front, in case they were called on for a report, but Camilla wasnot among them. She came in with Captain Leicester and the rest of the crew officers, and MacArannoticed that they had all put on formal uniform. Somehow that struck him as a bad sign. Why should theytry to emphasize their solidarity and authority that way?
The electricians on the crew had put up a rostrum and rigged an elementary public address system,
so that the Captain's voice, low and rather hoarse, could be heard throughout the big room.
"I have asked you all to come here tonight," he said, "instead of reporting only to your leaders, because in spite of every precaution, in a group this size rumors can get started, and can also get out of hand. First, I will give you what good news there is to give. To the best of our knowledge and belief, the air and water on this planet will support life indefinitely without damage to health, and the soil will
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probably grow Earth crops to supplement our food supply during the period of time while we are forced to remain here. Now I must give you the news which is not so good. The damage to the ship's drive units and computers is far more extensive
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than originally believed, and there is no possibility of immediate or rapid repairs. Although eventually it may be possible to become spaceborne, with our current personnel and materials, we cannot make repairs at all."
He paused, and a stir of voices, appalled, apprehensive, rose in the room. Captain Leicester raised
his hand.
"I am not saying that we should lose hope," he said. "But in our current state we cannot make
repairs. To get this ship off the surface of the planet is going to demand extensive changes in our present
setup and will be a very long-range project demanding the total co-operation of every man and woman in
this room."
Silence, and MacAran wondered what he meant by that. What exactly was the Captain saying?
Could
repairs be made or
couldn't
they?
"This may sound like a contradictory statement," the Captain went on. "We have not the material to make repairs. However, we
do
have, among all of us, the
knowledge
to make repairs; and we have an unexplored planet at our disposal, where we can certainly find the raw materials and
build
the material to make repairs."
MacAran frowned, wondering exactly how that was meant Captain Leicester proceeded to explain.
"Many of you people bound for the colonies have skills which will be useful there but which are of no use to us here," he said. "Within a day or two we will set up a personnel department to inventory all known skills. Some of you who have registered as farmers or artisans will be placed under the direction of our scientists or engineers to be trained. I demand a total push."
At the back of the room, Moray rose. He said, "May I ask a question, Captain?"
"You may."
"Are you saying that the two hundred of us in this room can, within five or ten years, develop a technological culture capable of building--or rebuilding--a star ship? That we can discover the metals, mine them, refine them, machine them, and build the necessary machinery?"
The Captain said quietly, "With the full co-operation of every person here, this can be done. I
estimate that it will take between three and five years."
Moray said flatly, "You're insane. You're asking us to evolve a whole technology!"
"What man has done, man can do again,"
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Captain Leicester said imperturbably. "After all, Mr. Moray, I remind you that we have no alternative."
"The hell we don't!"
"You are out of order," the Captain said sternly. "Please take your seat."
"No, damn it! If you really believe all this can be done," Moray said, "I can only assume that you're stark raving mad. Or that the mind of an engineer or spaceman works so differently from any sane man's that there's no way to communicate. You say this will take three to five years. May I respectfully remind you that we have about a year to eighteen months' supply of food and medical supplies? May I also remind you that even now--moving toward summer--the climate is harsh and rigorous and our shelters are insufficient? The winter on this world, with its exaggerated tilt on the axis, is likely to be more brutal than anything any Earthman has ever experienced."
"Doesn't that prove the necessity of getting off this world as soon as possible?"
"No, it proves the need of finding reliable sources of food and shelter," Moray said. "
That's
where we need our total push! Forget your ship, Captain. It isn't going anywhere. Come to your senses. We're colonists, not scientists. We have everything we need to survive here--to settle down here. But we can't do it if half our energies are devoted to some senseless plan of diverting all our resources to repair a hopelessly crashed ship!"
There was a small uproar in the hall, a flood of cries, questions, outrage. The Captain repeatedlycalled for order, and finally the cries died down to dull mutterings. Moray demanded, "I call for a vote,"and the uproar rose again.