FM Busby Long View 3 Zelde M'Tana

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came mild. "I don't see the problem-why there should be one. We chose our
course and destination in the approved fashion. Until
\iChanticleer\i reaches that destination, our agreed plans hold and it hardly
matters who
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\rnominally commands. As to the ship's good, I mean." He looked around the
group. "I \iassume\i that's what concerns us all-and I hope so. Now, if there
\iis\i a change of command. Mr. Adopolous, you will
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g%20View%2003%20-%20Zelde%20M'Tana%20v1.0.txt succeed me if physically able.
If not, then with Officer Tzane opting out of the succession, Officer
M'tana will act in your stead."
Parnell shrugged. "Fair Ball's not too many weeks away. And there, groundside,
you can poll the ship by Agowa formula, if need be, to determine your future
course. As I fully intend to do, peace willing, myself."
He stood; his gesture brushed away any try at argument. "This meeting's at an
end."
Carlo Mauragin muttered something. Parnell turned. "Yes?"
At the door, Mauragin said, "Just agreeing with you, sir."
"Do so aloud, please."
Carlo's face reddened; then he braced, chest out and shoulders square. "That
you don't understand the problem."
Quickly, to Parnell alone, Zelde said, "Forget it. I'll settle this-and be
back before you notice."
She ran to the door. Mauragin had scuttled out; at the first cross-corridor
she caught him and grabbed his arm. To one side stood a storage cubby, empty.
"In here, Carlo-don't let's make a show." Sullen-
faced, he followed her.
"What do you want \inow?'\i
"For the cracks at me, nothing-yet. But twice in there, it was Parnell you
speared at. Do that again, and
I'll have your guts on the deck. Hear me?"
He looked puzzled. "You think you're ready to call me out?"
"Not hardly. Just to \ido\i it-like I said. Saves time."
"Why-that's not regulation-the code doesn't provide-" He shook his head.
"Ship's court would \icrucify
\i you. . . ."
"Sure." Deliberately, she rammed stiff fingers under his breastbone. The jab
rocked him back; before he could catch his balance, she turned away. Over her
shoulder she said, "Keep saying that, Carlo-while you try to tuck yourself
back together. Might help, some." Her knees shook a little, but she walked
good, anyway.
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\c
\cGoing back to the meeting, it struck her that maybe her life as a Wild Kid
hadn't been all waste. At the door she stopped; except for Dopples, everyone
had left. "Where . . . ?"
"Surgery. But stay a minute here. You went after Maur-agin. Why?"
"You heard him make snot at Ragir. He don't do that again."
Dopples raised up on his elbows. "What did you do?"
"Just told him-but I think he heard me."
Sighing, the First Hat lay back. "I wish I knew what the hell's going on.
M'tana, I'm not your enemy."
"Never thought you was-or not lately." She started to leave.
"Wait-let's clear this." She stopped. "If Parnell . . . I'm not fit to take
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command, and may not be at all, during this trip. As for Tzane-command's no
good in the hands of someone who's afraid of it. So that leaves you."
"And Carlo. He was Third before me. And seems to think-"
\i"Seems\i to-and I think that says it. M'tana-since liftoff, I don't like the
feel of things. That
Policebitch-"
"Not the problem, her. Leastways I don't think so. And Turk's looking it,
there, so it's under control."
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Silence, then Adopolous nodded. "I have to go along with you, M'tana. Until
Ragir gets back to himself, there's no one else. So keep me informed, will
you? And anything I can do for you-"
"Sure." \iBecause it's for the ship.\i But it touched her, what he said.
Grinning, she gave him the best salute she knew how.
Outside Surgery, Zelde squinted through the little window. Still an aide
messing over Ragir, so all right to go in. The door swung shut behind her; she
stopped and looked at him.
A tube in his arm; Fesler had said about that. His body was lathered from
chest to thighs; the aide looked up, gestured with the razor in her hand. "The
fancy gadget we have for this-it clunked out, naturally. So back to the Dark
Ages."
\r 209
\rZelde smiled, and moved past to stand by Parnell's head. A little doped up,
he looked, but not bad.
"Ragir?"
He licked his lips. "Back, are you? Afraid you wouldn't be, before-" His
headshake was slow. "What it was about, with Mauragin-tell me after. Can't
think now-Fesler's drugs swinging my head on a string.
But I thought-tried to fix everything simple, in case-and it all came up a
fight. Zelde . . ."
To hear him, now, she had to bend down. She leaned all the way, and kissed
him. "Don't worry. Stuff I
got to tell you later, but-" What to say? Then she had it. "Rooster's upship,
mounting our new insigne.
And I just talked with Dopples, and he's solid on \iour\i side."
Lying back, his grin relaxed to slackness, Parnell sighed. "Ol' Dopps-\ihe's\i
with you, why thass' fine.
He-"
Fesler's voice. "All right, Zelde-move back now, please?" As she did,
Parnell's eyes closed, and Fesler made an injection. She moved farther away;
from there she saw Parnell's lower torso-the aide was finished. She held back
a giggle. \iNever knew 'til now how big a man does look, not hiding in no
bush!\i
Masked and gloved, sorting through a tray of instruments, Fesler said, "It's
time you left, Zelde."
"How so? I'll stay back, won't make a fuss. I-"
Emphatic headshake. "No. I have to do things, lifting and displacing, that you
couldn't see without protesting." She tried to speak but he cut her off. 'Wo.'
The captain needs all his best chances; I can't cope with distractions. So-"
She couldn't argue with that. "All right. Just do your best." She left without
waiting for an answer-and heard her feet hit the deck as if daring someone to
say they shouldn't.
Where to go-Control, galley, Turk's place? She went to quarters. But inside-no
Parnell, and she couldn't go be with him. A drink? She poured whisky, tasted
it. No, it needed ice, so she slugged off enough spirits to make room for a
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cube, and added it. She sat. She kicked off her shoes. She looked at the
intercom-but who was there to call?
The swerving jar, when it came, threw her almost out of her chair. \iWhat the
living fuck?\i She dropped the glass;
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trying to get up, she fell to her knees. Drunk? No-under her, the ship had
moved. Barefoot she scrambled to the intercom.
"Control? M'tana here. Report! What happened?"
No answer. "Goddamn you, up there! What's going on?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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