Damia's Children Page 8

GOODNESS SPREADS, Thian replied, accepting their encouragement and returning it in the ’Dini idiom.

  He caught the “push” of two strong minds at the onset of ’portation. He held his breath and felt the “halt” and the almost indefinable alteration as his grandmother “caught” the capsule from the Aurigaen thrust and brought it safely in. He didn’t feel even the slightest vibration as the carrier was placed on the Callistan cradle.

  I’m always careful with animate cargo, came the unmistakable touch of his grandmother’s ’pathing.

  You are indeed, ma’am, Thian answered politely.

  This ’port will be longer, remember, but I’ll stay with you, if you wish? the Rowan offered.

  Thian let a laugh ripple through his reply. Mother’d snatch me bald-headed, Callisto Prime, if I did that.

  He did give a start when he felt a thud-thunk vibrate through the capsule.

  That’s the drone capsule locking on, his grandmother said, not me missing my thrust. Don’t break any eggs now, she added.

  On her “now,” he knew that she had pushed because he could just hear the whine of generators. He was also aware of David, the Betelgeuse Prime when his touch came on line.

  Ah! Punctual as ever, David, the Rowan said. Shall we?

  Why not? was David’s diffident reply.

  The final thrust of his journey was palpable in Thian’s mind: he expected that both the Rowan and David had done that on purpose. Some Talents, especially Primes, still experienced twinges of apprehension when being ’ported by others. Most of them handled their own ’portations and possibly Thian could have, had he had practice with the coordinates to which he was going: constantly altering coordinates at that. He really was relieved that he hadn’t been expected to transport himself.

  Then he was there! Inside the battle cruiser.

  “Sir,” a loud voice shouted, slightly muffled by the capsule, “transport and drone are now aboard.”

  “Well, well, open up the carrier, man!”

  The hatch was cracked and the first thing Thian noted was that the air was tainted. The first thing he did was sneeze which mortified him.

  “Canned air has that effect, sir,” said the uniformed rating who looked in on him. “You’ll get used to it, Mr. Lyon.” The grin that followed that warning belied the sentiment.

  Mur was convulsed with the equivalent of a ’Dini sneeze while Dip seemed to be gagging.

  BE EASY, Thian clacked encouragingly and, pulling the harness release, reached over to extricate Mur from its belt and pull it to a more upright position. Mur managed a wheeze of gratitude and, in turn, assisted Dip.

  “Mr. Lyon, sir, care to join us?” and a second figure bent down to peer in the open hatch. The face that peered in was young, with that indefinable stamp of perpetual youth that some men seem to retain: regular but undistinguished features, pale blue eyes, fresh complexion and only the hint of down on the upper lip.

  “I’m helping my ’Dinis,” Thian said, somewhat relieved as he decided he looked older than his welcomer. Dark hair and heavy eyebrows produced unexpected results. “Ah, we’re coming.”

  “You were able to bring ’Dinis, then. By Jove, that is good news,” said this second individual who moved back as Thian swung himself out. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Lyon,” and Thian was surprised at the crisp salute accorded him. He grinned in return, and then offered his hand. “Lieutenant Ridvan Auster-Kiely, sir.”

  Thian decided that one could be over-sirred but it was only good naval protocol.

  Mur was hiccuping in spasms now and Thian felt the first twinge of concern. When Thian touched Mur’s sloping forearm, the fur felt very dry. Dehydration! Not good for the ’Dinis who daily consumed quantities of liquid. Thian excused himself to the Lieutenant and ’ported both ’Dinis out of the capsule, bracing Mur against his leg until it had cleared its air passage.

  “Mur should be all right in a moment,” Thian said with more authority than he felt. “This is Dip,” he added and handed Dip a clean cloth to mop its poll eye which was streaming, another form of ’Dinis reaction to poor air quality and excessive dryness. He had to blink rather furiously himself to clear his own eyes.

  “Yeah,” drawled the lieutenant, “it gets to you if you aren’t used to it. Would a puff of the pure do any good?”

  “The pure?” Thian wasn’t certain he had heard correctly because there was a lot of noise and exclamations from the seamen crowding around the supply drone so he “reached” for an explanation. “Oh, oxygen.” Then Thian wondered if his lapse had been noticed but the lieutenant didn’t react, just kept grinning sympathetically at the gasping and hiccuping ’Dinis.

  “These guys are small,” he said, trying not to be impolite with his interest in them.

  “Humans have different growth patterns. ’Dinis do it slower.”

  “Oh? Can I assist you with your baggage, sir? Get you to your quarters where it’s quieter,” Auster-Kiely said, as Mur’s hiccups developed into a distressed pattern that was plainly worrying Dip.

  Thian knew he had to get both ’Dinis out of the noise, confusion, and bad air as fast as possible.

  “Excuse me, lieutenant,” he said and clutched him by the shoulder just long enough for a quick scan. As Thian had anticipated, the man had a picture in his mind of where he would be guiding this party. “I’ll meet you there.”

  He gathered Mur and Dip in his arms and ’ported them all to the cabin Auster-Kiely had envisioned. It was small, but it had what he needed: a bunk on which he deposited Mur in an upright position, propping it with the pillow and sleepsak, before he swung round to the tiny basin, turned the water spigot on to soak the towel he whipped off the rack, and also filled a glass. As he turned back to the bunk, he noticed that the water was an odd off-clear shade and even a foot away from his nose, he could smell the chemicals used in recycling. But it was moisture. He held it against the appropriate orifice on Mur’s upper torso and watched the level being ingested while Mur valiantly struggled to suppress another series of hiccups. When partial success was obvious, Thian refilled the glass and offered it.

  Mur clicked in weak protest.

  ALL THERE IS, Thian said firmly and proffered the liquid. This time the hiccups completely subsided. Dip had wrung out the towel and was now laying it against Mur’s upper torso. Mur sagged into the supports, but its pelt color was not returning to a normal hue, and the two lids were still covering the poll eye. BETTER AIR NEEDED? Thian asked.

  WISE, was Dip’s reply but it added a questioning suffix.

  DOUBLE WISE, Thian said, feeling a soreness develop in the back of his throat which he knew had to be from the air though what was in the cabin was not as contaminated as the air in the shuttle bay. How the navy could operate in this atmosphere was beyond him. He swung round now to the compact room terminal, wriggling his fingers as he held them above the keyboard indecisively.

  Sick bay! That’s what he needed.

  There was a hesitant tap on the door.

  “Yes,” and he reached out to throw the latch. The young lieutenant stood there, a rating behind him, holding Thian’s belongings and the two ’Dini pouches.

  “Thanks,” Dip said in a guttural approximation and both seamen stared down at it in utter astonishment.

  “I didn’t know they could speak Basic,” Auster-Kiely said in an awed whisper.

  “These ’Dinis can, though their responses are limited to the words they can get their vocal equipment to sound,” Thian said. “But look, Mur here is not pulling round as it should.”

  “He . . . it . . . even looks sick,” Auster-Kiely replied, his eyes goggling.

  “You don’t have a ’Dini medic on board here, do you?”

  “On the Vadim?” The question startled the lieutenant.

  “There is a ’Dini ship in this squadron, though, isn’t there?”

  “Two!”

  “How do I contact one? Mur needs more help than I can provide,” and indeed the gasps coming from the ’Dini were cau
sing Dip great consternation to judge by the alteration of its own pelt color. It proffered another glass of water to Mur.

  “No wonder it’s sick if you’re giving him washing water,” cried Auster-Kiely, pointing agitatedly at the basin and then at the small cylinder above it: plainly marked “drinking water.”

  Thian groaned, scrubbing at his face and wondering how he could have been so stupid. Auster-Kiely pushed past him now and began tapping keys.

  “Sir, medical emergency in Mr. Lyon’s quarters. A Mrdini illness. Urgently request contact with ’Dini vessel and their medic.”

  “Thanks, Kiely,” Thian said, leaning weakly against the wall. And he thought himself so responsible that the first thing he does on his assignment was to poison a ’Dini with unpotable water!

  “What’s this about a ’Dini emergency?”

  Auster-Kiely came to a rigid attention stance, his eyes once more protruding. “Yes, sir, there is, sir.”

  With an apologetic look, Thian shoved the lieutenant to one side so he was visible to the hoarse-voiced querant.

  “Prime Lyon here,” Thian said. “My ’Dini companion is experiencing difficulties with breathing. I made the mistake of giving it basin water . . .”

  “Damned fool . . . weren’t you briefed? Why didn’t that young squirt do what he was told to . . .”

  Thian could have wished any other circumstances had brought him to the captain’s notice so soon but the background noise of Mur’s gasps required immediate action.

  “Get some oxygen in here, Kiely,” he said to the lieutenant. “Your pardon, sir, this is an extreme emergency. I need to talk to a ’Dini medic right now!”

  “I was told, Lyon, that you were fully capable of caring for your . . .”

  “I am, Captain Ashiant, which is what I’m doing, if you will kindly put me through to your communications officer. Explanations must wait.” To Thian’s increasing anxiety, Captain Ashiant hesitated. Thian sensed a dislike/distaste/reluctance to communicate with either of the ’Dini ships. “Now, Captain, before Mur dies!”

  That stern threat prompted action.

  “Lieutenant Brikowski, sir,” a new voice said and the screen cleared to a new face, a gaunt, hatchet-face topped off by a cap of short dark hair. “I’m opening a channel but I only have basic ’Dini, Mr. Lyon . . .”

  “Just open the channel.”

  Auster-Kiely had come racing back with a breathing unit—albeit a Human one—and didn’t know what to do with it. Snatching the unit from the man, Thian turned the cock on the bottle and passed the mask to Dup.

  COVER BREATHING ORIFICE, he explained and turned back to the screen just as the view cleared to the ’Dini bridge.

  MEDICAL EMERGENCY, CAPTAIN PLR, MRG WITH BREATHING DIFFICULTIES, WATER AND AIR IMPURITIES, COLOR POOR, OXYGEN ADMINISTERED, MOISTURE TO BODY PART. OTHER REMEDY?

  Thian had no time to be pleased that he got all the words out in the proper order and with good accent. He saw Dip’s nod of approval and then Dip plowed over the screen. On seeing who was answering the call, it bowed first, exhibiting full poll eye to the senior ’Dini in a mark of great respect before Dip added a few medical details to Thian’s statement.

  GREAT URGENCY REQUIRES DIRE MEASURES, Dip told Thian after a brief exchange. MRG MUST BE IMMERSED IN WATER, ANY KIND, UNTIL MEDICAL CAN ARRIVE. THN CAN TRANSPORT? Dip’s tone slowed to one of query and entreaty.

  ANY TIME ANY PLACE, DPL. REQUEST MEDICAL TO ENTER A PERSONAL CAPSULE, INFORM ME WHEN READY AND I WILL TRANSPORT IMMEDIATELY.

  Dip conveyed that message and bowed respectfully again as the screen cleared to the Vadim’s bridge.

  “Well, did you straighten it all out, Mr. Lyon?” Captain Ashiant replied, a scowl still in place on his prominent brow. He was a big-chested man with a heavy neck, big features, and he was probably even more imposing in the flesh. Concern for Mur made Thian more reckless than diplomatic but too much was at stake.

  “We need to immerse Mur in water, anywhere will do. It’s not a full-grown ’Dini, and it needs continued oxygen. A medical person is coming . . .”

  “It’ll take a day or two . . .” the Captain began.

  “It’ll take a minute, Captain, once I have a pic of the ’Dini hold, permission to use the Vadim’s generators for a ’port to the same hold we arrived in . . .”

  “It’s that bad?”

  Thian had been ready to use any lever required to cut through protocol to get the help Mur required so he was momentarily at a loss.

  “Yes, sir, I’m sorry it is.”

  “Sick bay’ll have a water bath for you. Come to the bridge as soon as you’ve settled your friend. Kiely?” and the bark was back in the captain’s tone. “You lend all assistance necessary . . . and I’ll see you later, mister.”

  Kiely gulped as the screen blanked.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Kiely,” Thian said. “I’ll explain.” The relief in Kiely’s eyes was heartfelt. Thian bent to pick Mur up and carry it over his shoulder before he clasped Dip in the other arm. “Now think of the sick bay for me, and join me there!”

  Startled, Kiely once again flashed Thian the vision he needed and he ’ported them directly into the examining room in the most dramatic fashion.

  “You don’t waste time, do you?” said the chief medical officer who immediately stepped forward. “This way,” and hurried the trio toward a cubicle. A small bath was filling with water, the same off-color stuff. Non-potable, Thian thought bitterly, but water.

  MRG, CLOSE ALL ORIFICES, Thian told his friend as he gently lowered the pale, shaking ’Dini into the tub while Dip did its best to keep the oxygen mask in place. “If there’s another mask, Dip will show you where to place it for best effect,” he said to the doctor.

  “Certainly,” and a snap of his fingers produced a second breathing apparatus from a very attentive corpswoman. “I’ve never dealt with a ’Dini patient before, Mr. . . .”

  “Lyon . . .” Thian supplied. “You don’t by any chance speak any ’Dini?”

  “’Fraid not,” and the physician was genuinely regretful.

  Thian saw that the immersion was having some effect for Mur’s color slightly improved.

  “Well, Dip speaks Basic. I’ll leave it here. I’m getting a ’Dini medic over.”

  “But that’ll take . . .”

  “Not very long, if you’ll show me where the bridge is . . .”

  The doctor inadvertently visualized the bridge in his public mind and Thian paused long enough to thank him before he transferred. There was no time for the usual protocol or procedures. ’Dinis were rarely ill—especially on Humanoid planets—so Mur’s unexpected malfunction was of major concern. It couldn’t be just the bad air and the inadvertent ingestion of even worse water. Mur must be physically imperfect. It would be like losing a hand, Thian thought, to lose Mur. And far worse for Dip. Maybe the seizure was only passing, the shock of transport, the dehydration of a long passage through space!

  He arrived on the bridge to the startlement of all on duty, the security guards reaching for their weapons.

  “I’m Thian Lyon,” he said, both vocally and telepathically, reinforcing the thought with an inhibition on them not to draw. “Captain, I do apologize,” he said, rapidly striding to Ashiant’s command chair, “for busting every rule of naval protocol my first hour on the Vadim . . .”

  “Direct action is sometimes the only course,” Ashiant said, an odd smile tugging at his mouth. He pointed toward an unoccupied chair to the left of the main stations. “When we were apprised of your joining the Vadim, we installed a chair for you in the engineering section. You should have everything you need there. Commander Tikele is standing by.”

  Nodding his thanks, Thian strode to the position, smiling with quick gratitude to the wiry little man standing beside the chair. The Engineering Officer had a slightly supercilious expression to mouth and eyes. Afra had warned his son that he might expect some resistance from mechanically minded naval personnel who trusted
their engines more than alternative forms of transportation. Thian managed a respectful bow to the Commander as he sat down.

  “Generators are already on line?” he asked, though he could also see by the gauges on the board in front of him that they were.

  “Ready when you are,” Tikele said in the blandest possible tone.

  “May I have a view of the ’Dini ship’s shuttle bay?”

  “Patch it through,” Captain Ashiant said and the right-hand screen immediately gave Thian the picture he needed.

  He reached out with just his mind, sensing the presence of many ’Dinis, and the smooth cylinder that would transport the medics. If he hadn’t been rushing around like a slither after stonelice, he’d have been able to reach across that minimal spatial distance without assistance. But despite the adrenalin coursing through his blood, he leaned into the generators, just as he would back on Aurigae. At that, his catch didn’t place more than a second’s strain on the generators.

  “There,” Thian said, rising. “Thank you very much for your cooperation, gentlemen. Captain, with your permission?” he added, belatedly remembering lessons in naval courtesy.

  “You haven’t needed it yet, have you, Lyon?” But the captain’s tone was wry with amusement.

  Even as Thian nodded in rueful acknowledgment, he ’ported himself to the shuttle deck where three ’Dinis were debarking from their capsule. They carried considerable equipment. The bay crew were rushing forward, not sure what action to take.

  “They are expected. I will lead them,” Thian said quickly before there could be a security incident. He took the necessary steps to the three ’Dinis. They were the biggest he had seen, even larger than the eldest in the Aurigaen village. One ’Dini was nearly his height which was tall enough for a Human.

  WHO IS SENIOR, O LARGE AND VENERABLE ONES? he asked as deferentially as he could. He knew that some ’Dinis took their size as seriously as some Humans took their status.

  ESCORT THIS ONE IMMEDIATELY TO THE SICK, the big one said, moving gracefully forward to meet Thian.

  “Will one of you escort the rest of them to sick bay?” Thian said, glancing about the Humans to see who was in command.