Stardoc (28 page)

“Petition the Council,” I said. “Be prepared to stand in line.”

The commander eyed me with cantankerous dislike before reclaiming his seat. “You’d better hope your luck improves, Doctor. Soon,” he told me before he activated a recording drone. “Conducting routine interview with Colonist Grey Veil, Cherijo.”

I gave my account of what had happened, leaving out only Reever’s link with me, and my later revelations. When the record was complete, I was dismissed. I managed to jump down without Norash’s help. On my way out, the Trytinorn muttered something about not hearing my name mentioned for at least a revolution.

Ana Hansen was waiting for me in the reception area. Reever and Dhreen were nowhere to be seen, but I thought I caught a glimpse of Dr. Mayer walking out the main entrance.

“Trying to avoid me?” the blond administrator asked, smiling.

“Trying to forgive you.” She chuckled, then stopped and frowned when she saw the bloody strip binding my hand. “Don’t ask. That was some vacation you sent me on. Remind me to hijack the shuttle back to K-2 next time.”

“I don’t dare send you to one of the more populated League worlds,” Ana said. “Norash believes you may set off an intersystem conflict.”

“It would be a lot easier if Norash had been there... to...” I trailed off as something occurred to me. Ana walked me back to my glidecar, noticed the damage to the display unit but said nothing.

“When am I scheduled for my next shift? Swings,” I answered myself. I looked blankly at Ana. then shook myself out of my trance. “Sorry. I need to check on something. I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow.”

“Joey”- she made a helpless gesture-“let me know if I can help. I’m sorry about all this. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Not according to Norash,” I said as I climbed in my glidecar. In minutes I was back at the Botanical Project area and making my way to the original site of Alun Karas’s accident.

The gnorra trees were in full bloom, but I noted a slight brownish tinge to the leaves that had not been present before. Some seasonal transition, I guessed, and then walked around the entire area. Phew, I thought, and sneezed. The acrid smell from the resin spill was still strong. My nostrils flared, and I sneezed again. I took more samples. The smelly sap had darkened considerably, and the carpet of leaves was badly decayed.

What exactly had happened to Karas here?

I was taking root and bark samples, he’d told me. A resin tapper had clogged, and when he tried to clear it, the reservoir blew... Then I tripped and fell into a pile of gnorra leaves.

I tried to reenact his movements before the accident. I pretended to take samples from the trees.

Walked from the outer fringe back to the damaged equipment. Touched the tapper’s intake, examined the tools still lying beside the equipment. Measured the distance to the shattered reservoir. Threw up my arms, imagined the shower of sticky resin. Dropped down, probed the soil. Noted the number of gnarled roots where he could have tripped. Inspected the thick brown layer of leaves beneath me.

What could have infected him? The collection equipment, the resin, leaves, and K-2 dirt. That was all he’d come in contact with. There were no other botanical specimens in proximity - the gnorra trees appeared to be very territorial - and no other substances within reach he could have fallen on or breathed in.

Which told me absolutely nothing.

I was almost glad to see the signal from the FreeClinic when I returned to my glidecar. Audio only, due to my temper tantrum. It was one of the techs from Lab Services.

“Pathologist Crhm would like to speak with you when you report for shift, Doctor,” I was told, and remembered I’d requested some tissue samples from Karas’s lungs. I decided to report early and see what the medical examiner had come up with.

Pathology occupied a small section of its own, and was not kept busy as a general rule. Karas’s death was the first in more than half a revolution.

Crhm was a hermaphroditic, crustacean-like being with eyestalks. The first time we’d met, I had thought of the Terran lobsters Joseph Grey Veil had regularly flown in for his personal consumption. I was glad I’d never developed a taste for them.

The pathologist saw me and hurried out of its office, exuding an air of excitement as it ushered me in.

“Come, come,” its voice buzzed through my TI. “You must see this, Dr. Grey Veil.”

I was taken back into the storage area, where remains were kept until final disposition. Apparently Karas had requested to be transported to Chakara in the event of his death. Cargo space to that system was limited, so his remains had not yet been shipped home.

Dr. Crhm and I scrubbed, masked, and gloved before the examination. At the wall of storage containers, the pathologist keyed the compartment reserved for organs removed during autopsy. Internal envirocontrols preserved the tissue perfectly. Crhm extracted the container that held Chakaran’s lungs and took it to the exam table.

“I was following up on your request for tissue samples from the lungs when I found the abnormality,”

Crhm told me as it removed the organs and placed them on a biopsy pad.

The lungs should have been a pale lilac in color, the normal condition for Chakarans. Karas’s were necrotized to a dark purple and badly distorted by loss of volume and cellular cohesion.

Dr. Crhm used a light probe to indicate the posterior segments. “Here - do you see this substance?”

I pulled down the overhead magnifier and through it saw a yellowish substance coating the exterior of both lower lobes. My voice was slightly muffled by the mask I wore. “What is that?”

“My first reaction was the same,” Crhm said. “What do you think it is?”

“Empyema, perhaps, but that doesn’t explain the tissue damage.” I lifted the magnifier up and leaned closer. That was strange. Outer tissue appeared damaged, as if several sections of the organ had been eaten away. No, not eaten. Removed. “I’ve never seen pneumonic abscesses occur outside the lungs.”

There was a remote possibility that it had come from Karas’s stomach, but I’d have caught that. I asked anyway. “Any indications of a gastropleural fistula?”

“None. The stomach was intact, and scans were negative for gastric leakage.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, staring at the tissues. “This would have shown up on my scanner. His lungs were largely intact when he died. No postmortem atrophic response could possibly account for the missing sections!” I peered closer. “Could a colony of anaerobes have migrated and set up house in the cells?”

Most anaerobes required a reduced oxygen tension and solid media for growth; some needed a complete absence of molecular oxygen in order to survive. Maybe they had needed to get out of Karas’s lungs, and in the process, had killed him.

“Anaerobes usually produce tissue necrosis, and some are aggressively fulminant,” Crhm said, following my theory.

“Whatever did this certainly fits the profile.”

“I have another bit of evidence.” Crhm’s eyestalks were nearly bouncing with delight. “I measured the amounts of both the unidentified substance and the missing tissue. They appear to be equal in volume.”

“Replaced,” I said. “Like a cancer.”

Crhm nodded, rather reluctantly this time. “I can’t prove that yet, Dr. Grey Veil, as the substance does not register as an anaerobe or any other pathogen on our equipment.”

“It could have migrated via the alveoli or the pulmonary capillaries through the visceral pleura into the chest cavity.” That didn’t explain what it was, or why the missing host cells had not shown up on my scanner while Karas was still alive, but I put those inconsistencies aside for the moment. One problem at a time.

“There are no signs of migration or saturation.”

I checked the organ once more. “That isn’t conclusive. Anaerobes have been known to migrate and leave no trace evidence.” I pushed the magnifier aside and turned to the pathologist with a grin. “Dr.

Crhm, you’ve given me an entirely new direction to pursue. Thank you.” I reached out and clasped the shiny clawed appendage it extended to me. “You know this means I’m going to have to name my first child after you.”

“I doubt the little one would be grateful.” It made a chuckling hiss. “A mention of my findings on your report when completed, however, would be appreciated.”

“A mention?” I laughed with delight. “Dr. Crhm, I may just sign your name to the whole thing!”

Pathology arranged to have the organs sent over to my lab, while I stopped by Trauma to see if any new cases of the contagion had been reported.

Rogan had been waiting for me, it seemed. When he heard my voice, he emerged from his exam room and voiced a bellowing tirade against my supposed incompetence.

T’Nliqinara tried to calm him down, but he shoved her out of his way and stepped right up to my face.

His polyps appeared much healthier, I decided, but the stink was still the same. “Who the suns do you think you are-“

I’d had enough. “Did you get my postsurgical report on the Orgemich female you treated for gastroenteritis?”

“I don’t see-“

“She nearly died because you couldn’t be bothered to run a full series scan.”

Rogan’s odor envelope expanded. “If anyone is to blame, it’s-“

“That’z enough, Dr. Rogan,” Dr. Dloh said as he stepped between us, pinchers open, front appendages arched.

“She shouldn’t even be here! She’s been removed from Trauma assignment!” Rogan shrieked. “I’ve filed charges against her for reckless incompetence and misconduct under the Charter!”

“If you don’t zhut up,” the big arachnid lowered his voice to a menacing buzz, “I will remove you from Trauma myzelf.”

Rogan weighed this for half a second before he whirled and stomped off. I exchanged a rueful glance with the charge nurse before I thanked my colleague for his intervention.

“Zunz knowz, we could uze you here,” Dloh sighed, shaking his gleaming head as he gazed after Rogan.

“He’z uzelezz.”

“Hang in there,” I told him. “I may be back sooner than you think.”

I retreated to my lab, and immediately examined the tissue from Karas’s lungs. Perimeter tissue showed no signs of cellular degradation. An infection didn’t eat whole cells and leave the others untouched. Crhm was right, it was almost as if the missing cells had been replaced.

I spent the rest of my shift examining and testing the yellow substance. For a possible pathogen, it was remarkably inert. No discernible cell structures, no DNA. Nothing that would indicate it was anything more than a viscous fluid similar to that of plasma, except this particular plasma was emptied of all nutrients, salts, proteins, and chemical signatures.

A biological broth with nothing in it.

Despite the depressing lack of evidence, I wrote up my initial report and transmitted it to Dr. Mayer.

With it I added my recommendation that any future cases be quarantined immediately. I had a feeling we needed to find this bug in living tissue. It took only a few moments to transmit a copy of my report over to Dr. Crhm, since the pathologist was responsible for its inception.

I remembered my cat and my roommate some ten hours later, and closed the lab for that day. Before I left, I sealed the organ container and placed a lock on it to assure no one would inadvertently tamper with it. I wouldn’t put it past Rogan to try.

At home, I found Alunthri and Jenner playing a simple game of chase-the-toy-mouse, and was welcomed with enthusiasm by the first and disdainful disapproval by the latter.

“He seeks to curry your attention.” Alunthri smiled, baring sharp, gleaming teeth at the small cat.

“Administrator Hansen stopped by to check on us several times during your absence. How was your vacation?”

“Eventful.” I dialed a hot meal and herbal tea for myself, and served it along with the evening meal Alunthri had already programmed for itself and Jenner. “I’ll tell you all about it during dinner.”

I liked sitting down to a meal interval, now that I had someone to talk to. I related most of what happened on Caszaria’s Moon to the Chakacat, and listened as it told me of the latest art studies. It certainly was enthusiastic about something called tonal sculpture, whatever that was. After we finished, Jenner finally forgave me enough to allow me to hold him for a short time.

“You must have been frightened,” Alunthri said, referring to my misadventure.

“I was.” I had been too angry with my father today to think about my own fear. “The scariest part is just the idea of someone taking me-“ I looked at the big cat, and closed my eyes “- against my will. Sorry.”

Here I was babbling about the fact I’d been nearly abducted, when the Chakacat had endured so much more. It was something we had never discussed before. Sometimes I was so tactless.

Alunthri curled up on the sofa and fingered a strip of the metallic girdle it wore. With its permission, I had thrown away Karas’s collared harness and enabled it to choose and wear garments it liked instead. “No being should suffer such violence.”

Maybe it. was something we needed to talk about. “Would you tell me what happened when you were captured, Alunthri?”

It nodded. “I was the youngest of eight in my litter. That is why I am so small. Runts fetch a good price on the open market. Even more after we’re trained for household companionship.

“A commercial hunter captured my pride. My litter siblings were killed outright for their pelts. My parent was kept alive long enough to accompany me to the market center in the city.” At my drawn brows, Alunthri explained, “Newly weaned Chakacats often die of starvation. They will not eat unless their parent is kept with them.”

“It’s all so horrible...”

Alunthri nodded again. “I was sold to a trainer, and taught to speak and serve. The Karas family purchased me as a gift to Alun upon his transfer.”

“I can’t believe this is permitted.” I was filled with sorrow and fury. “Don’t the Chakarans understand your kind are intelligent? That you have the same emotions and desires as they do?”

The big cat made a helpless gesture. “We are as we have always been.”

“Surely the fact you can talk makes it impossible to think of your kind as primitives!”