Sassinak (37 page)

"How could it?" she asked, meanwhile wondering why he'd give her such an opening. Did he
want
to be removed from command? Did he distrust his co-leader? Varian seemed as surprised by his question as Sassinak. Sassinak filled out her quick answer, explaining her understanding of their entirely legitimate position, and reminding them again of her willingness to give them any assistance. Varian accepted this happily, but Kai still seemed constrained. Either he was very sick still, from all that had happened, or something else was wrong. After she'd turned them over to Ford, who would take Kai down to sickbay for Mayerd's diagnostic unit to work on, and Varian to supply, she sat for awhile, frowning thoughtfully at the screen that had held their image.

She put the ID papers of both transport and crew in a sealed pouch, and stored it safely away for later examination. Dupaynil came in, with two Com specialists, to take the homing capsule away. He asked if she wanted to watch them extract the message, but she shook her head. At the moment, she'd take a break from the day's craziness, and discuss the evening's menu with her favorite cook.

When the call came in from the survivors' geologist, one Dimenon, relayed through Com, she collected the Iretan heavyworlders and the expedition coleaders. Mayerd shepherded Kai, clearly unwilling to let such an interesting case out of her sight, and Ford brought Varian. Dimenon had had a good reason for contacting the cruiser—not only a video of twenty-three small Thek, but an interaction between them and the creature that had attacked Kai. Sassinak had already viewed the tape once, and now in the re-run watched Kai's reaction to these odd creatures—fringes, they called them. The man was positively terrorstruck as the fringes advanced on the Thek, his breathing labored and his skin color poor. He had not moved well, coming into her office, but she thought if a fringe appeared in real life he would somehow manage to run. Pity and disgust contended in her mind. Had he always been like this, or had events overcome him? What did Varian think? Sassinak glanced at her, and realized that she, too, was covertly watching him, her expression guarded.

Sassinak distracted Varian with a question about the fringes, and Mayerd, bless her perception, kept the conversation going thereafter . . . although Kai's answers, when he spoke, tended to cause a sudden rift. Then the Iretans began to ask their own questions, about the Thek, and their place in the Federation. Sass's opinion of Aygar's intelligence climbed another notch. He could think—and, it seemed in the next exchange, he even had a sense of humor. For when Sassinak asked him what weapon his people used against the fringes, he said, "We run," in a tone of rich irony.

A slight easing of tension, and the conversation continued: fringes and their habits, the aquatic fringes the expedition had observed before the mutiny. Aygar was surprised by that . . . and Sassinak was just wondering how she could shift the conversation to the reptiloids when Varian, answering a question, mentioned the word. Dinosaurs. Fordeliton leaped on it with such eagerness that Sassinak half-expected Varian to recoil suspiciously. But apparently she thought it was natural for a grown man, a Fleet cruiser Executive Officer, to leap into an argument about whether anything resembling a true Old Earth dinosaur could have evolved in such a different world. Varian reeled off a string of names, Ford gaped, and then brought Aygar into it.

Sassinak let the excited exchange continue a minute or so, then put a halt to it with such pointed lack of interest for anything but the political situation that she knew they'd erupt again when her back was turned. So much the better. By the time she ushered the Iretans out, Varian and Kai had practically adopted Ford. She had no trouble persuading them to take all six of the short-listed specialists . . . Varian, in fact, was openly gleeful.

She wondered if Mayerd had found out anything from Kai, besides the nature of his injuries and illness, but the medic had spent all her time on physical symptoms.

"It's no use asking why he's depressed and nervous until he's no longer in pain, feverish, and numb in places."

"I should think numbness preferable to pain," said Sassinak tartly. "How can he be both?"

Mayerd gave her a look which reminded her she hadn't eaten on time, and suggested they take a short break. "Eat a bit of that chocolate you keep hidden around here," she said, "and I'll have a cup of tea, and we'll all keep from biting our heads off, shall we?"

"Don't mother me, Mayerd. I'm not old and decrepit."

"No," said Mayerd shrewdly, "but you're about to meet a fourth-generation ancestor who's years younger than you are, and for all you know a raving beauty who'll steal Ford's heart away and leave you withering in the blast of dead passion."

Sassinak whooped, and her tension dissolved in an instant. "You—That's ridiculous!"

"True, O Captain. So are some other people. Done grieving for Huron yet, or are you still feeling so guilty you can't enjoy your many admirers?"

"You're making me blush. None of your business, I'd say, except it is, since you're my physician. Well, yes, I have enjoyed normal—or at least pleasurable—involvement in the last few weeks."

"Good. About time. That boy Tim's in awe of you, by the way, so I hope you're going to let him back into your good graces sometime."

"Already done, fairy godmother, so let me be."

"Back to Kai, then. The toxin destroyed nerve tissue, so he's got sensory deprivation on some areas of skin—nasty, because he doesn't know when he's hurt himself. Where the tissue's not destroyed, it's stimulated—just like pain, but the brain can't register constant stimulus like that, so he just gets these odd stabs and twinges, and a general feeling of something very wrong, very deep. His blood count's off, which probably causes the exhaustion you noticed, and he's not sleeping well, which doesn't help. I offered to slap him in one of the big tanks, and let him sleep it off until we got him to Sector, but he refused. Which, in this case, took considerable guts, despite that display while you ran the tape."

"Umm. It bothered me, particularly in someone in his position."

"That Varian's got enough bounce for two," said Mayerd; Sassinak could detect the faintest trace of distaste, and knew that Mayerd would always prefer a patient to a patient's healthy friend. With that in mind, she suggested that Mayerd visit the survivors that afternoon, when the diagnostic unit had finished meditating over Kai's condition.

"I'd already thought of that. They'll need clothes . . . you
were
planning a formal dinner, weren't you?"

"To show off, yes." Sassinak chuckled. "You mind-reader: people will think you're a Weft if you keep that up. Raid my closet, if you need anything I've got—there's a red dress that might suit Varian."

"I've got a green that will be perfect for Lunzie," said Mayerd smugly. "And all Kai's measurements, so I've already located something for him."

By the time Mayerd stopped by to show Sassinak what she'd chosen, on her way to the sled, the stewards were giving Sassinak sideways looks that meant they'd like her to clear out so they could set up for dinner. She had elected to serve in her office, a more intimate setting than the officers' mess.

"I'm going, I'm going," she said, grinning at the cook as he came to survey the room's layout, with an eye to planning service. She stopped by the bridge, where everything seemed to be under control, and discovered that most of them knew about her ancestress . . . after all, she hadn't told Ford or the others to keep it a secret. She worked through the day's reports, noting replies to some queries back to Sector, and some pending—she'd hoped to have more information for Kai and Varian tonight, but apparently not. Something might come in any time, of course. Finally Arly caught her attention and pointed to the clock. Time to be getting ready—but she'd cleared most of her work, and would start the morrow only slightly behind.

As she went to her cabin to clean up, she found she could not quite analyze her emotions. Lunzie . . . another Lunzie. No, not another Lunzie, but
the
Lunzie. That hardly seemed fair to her little sister—but then nothing had been. She wouldn't think about that, she told herself, and poured another dollop of shampoo on her hair. Thank the gods that the cruiser didn't have to use Iretan water!

But what would she be like? What
could
she be like? More like someone her elapsed age, or more like an old lady . . . a very,
very
old lady? She had the file holo . . . but that told her little. Her own file holo, the still one, didn't tell a viewer that much. Movement was so much of a person—she thought of this, wringing out her hair, and flipping it into a towel with easy practiced gestures. No two people even bathed alike, dried themselves alike . . . and what if her ancestress turned out to be prudish about sex? That thought brought a blush to her cheeks. She looked at herself in the mirror, thinking of Mayerd's teasing remarks. What if she
wasn't
 . . . what if she had Sass's own casual attitude . . . and after all Ford
was
very good looking. No. Ridiculous. Here she hadn't even met her, and already she was thinking of
that
kind of rivalry with her great-great-great-grandmother?

Besides, Mayerd would be back before then, and could tell her—if she would, because doctors did stick together—and would it be worse, Sassinak asked herself suddenly, to lose a family because of long coldsleep, as Lunzie had certainly done, or gain one because someone down the line was alive when you awoke? She eased into the long black slip that fit under her formal evening dress uniform, and began assembling it: the black gown, skirt glittering with tiny stars, and the formal honors winking on the left breast of the bodice. Somehow the formals, jeweled as they were, seemed more remote from the events that earned them than the full-size medals that jingled softly on a white-dress suit. This was the first time she'd pinned the formal rank jewels of Commander on the shoulders; the last time she'd worn this outfit, she'd been a Lieutenant Commander at Sector Headquarters, on duty at a diplomatic ball. The long, close-fitting black sleeves were ringed with gold: the captain of the ship, even in evening dress.

A last look—the merest touch of color on her lips—and she was ready. The proper twenty minutes before the guests would arrive, and there was Mayerd, also ready, and Ford. They grinned at each other, and Sassinak resisted the temptation to check on her office. Ford would have done it. She congratulated Ford on the increased "coverage" of his chest. . . he had picked up more than a few impressive medals, in the years since she'd seen him last. Mayerd wore her Science Union badge, and the little gold pin that meant honor graduate of the best medical school in the human worlds. They chatted idly, waiting at the head of the ramp, and Sassinak was very aware that both were watching her closely, to catch her reaction to Lunzie. They'd said nothing except that her relative would "suit" her.

"There it is—" Ford gestured, and Sassinak caught a moving gleam in the darkness. Hard to see which was which, with so many bits of light shifting around, but Ford, as usual, was right. A four-seater airsled settled gently near the foot of the ramp, and the honor guard jogged out into place. Sassinak wondered, suddenly, if she should have gone quite this far without warning them . . . civilians, after all . . . but they seemed to understand what the shrill piping whistle meant. And the crisp ruffle of drums.

Varian and Lunzie, long skirts swirling in the wind, led the way up the ramp past a rigid honor guard. Sassinak could tell they were impressed, though she had trouble keeping her eyes off Lunzie's face: she hadn't wanted to stare like that since she was a first-year cadet. Instead, she pulled herself up and saluted: appropriate to the planetary governor and her staff, but they'd all know it was for Lunzie. Varian gave a quick dip of the head, like a nervous bird, but Lunzie drawled a response to her greeting and offered a firm handshake.

For a long moment they stood almost motionless, then Lunzie retrieved her hand, and Sassinak felt a bubble of delight overcoming the last bit of concern. She would have liked this woman even if she hadn't been a triple great-grandmother—and she'd
have
to find an easier way to say all that. They had too much to say to each other! She grinned, cocking her head, and Lunzie's response was too quick to be an attempt to mimic—it was
her
natural gesture, too.

From there, the evening went quickly from delight to legend. Whatever chemistry went into the food, the drink, and the companionship combined into a heady brew that had Lunzie making puns, and Sassinak reciting long sequences of Kipling's verse. She noticed, as she finished a rousing version of "L'Envoi" that Lunzie had a speculative expression, almost wary. On reflection, perhaps she shouldn't have accented "They travel fastest who travel
alone
" quite so heavily, not when meeting the only member of her family she'd seen since Myriad. She grinned at Lunzie, and raised her glass.

"It's kind of a Fleet motto," she said. "Convince the youngsters that they have to cut free from home if they want to wander the stars . . ."

Lunzie's answering smile didn't cover the sadness in her eyes. "And your family, Sassinak? Where were you brought up?"

It had never occurred to her that Lunzie wouldn't know the story. She felt rather than saw Ford's sudden stiffness, Mayerd's abrupt pause in lifting a forkful to her mouth. No one had asked in years, now: Fleet knew, and Fleet was her family. Sassinak regained control of her breathing, but Lunzie had noticed; the eyes showed it.

"My family were killed," she said, in as neutral a voice as she could manage. "In a slaver raid. I . . . was captured."

Varian opened her mouth, but Kai laid a hand on hers and she said nothing. Lunzie nodded without breaking their gaze.

"They'd be proud of you," she said, in a voice with no edges. "I am."

Sassinak almost lost control again . . . the audacity of it, the gall . . . and then the love that shone so steadfastly from those quiet eyes.

"Thank you, great-great-great-grandmother," she said. A pause followed, then Ford leaped in with an outrageous story about Sassinak as a young officer on the prize vessel. The others followed with their own wild tales, obviously intent on covering up the awkwardness while Sassinak regained her equanimity. Mayerd and Lunzie knew the same hilarious dirty rhyme from medical school, and rendered it in a nasal accent that had them all in stitches. Varian brought up incidents from veterinary school, equally raunchy, and Kai let them know that geologists had their own brand of humor.