something in the scans of Stern’s brain,” he changed the subject.
She grimaced. She didn’t want to confess it to an outsider. Hahnson would never make public his knowledge of Stern’s condition without real need. This alien was different. She was apprehensive about what he might do if she told him the whole truth. “I’ve served with Stern and Hahnson for ten years,” she pointed out, “ever since I gave up combat command and obtained my medical degree.”
“And you feel loyalty to your captain. Is that not against regulations?”
The question was unexpected. Her eyes were troubled. “It is. I was an SSC Amazon Commando from the time I was nine, until my eighteenth year. When I left, I held the rank of captain,” she told him. “I never understood, either, why I left, or what led me to medicine. Even SSC HQ questioned the choice. It was inexplicable, even to me.”
“Sometimes,” he said in an oddly soft tone, “our destinies shape us, rather than the reverse.”
“Perhaps.” She turned back to the sensors. “Do you understand the basics of viral transmutation?”
He nodded. “We do not perform medical research, since even the most basic tampering with DNA in nonclones carries the death penalty in my culture. But we are privy to the experiments of your government with genetic alteration. Viruses are nonliving organisms which achieve the extreme of evolutionary specialization for parasitism.”
“Very good, Commander,” she said, impressed. “Well, Rojok scientists have found a method in which it is possible to engineer a virus and introduce it into a human body to activate certain behaviors, which would be abnormal under ordinary conditions.”
He folded his arms over his broad chest. “You speak of biogenetic engineering.”
She nodded. “It only takes a second to introduce the virus. It doesn’t even require injection. It can be placed in the nostril.” She hesitated. “Stern was missing for several hours. When he came back, his behavior was, to put it mildly, odd.”
“Hahnson said the same thing.”
“Yes. We’re both concerned. In fact,” she added, facing him, “Stern himself is concerned. He doesn’t understand why he didn’t interfere when you allegedly spaced Muldoon.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I suggest you omit the adverb if you repeat this conversation.”
“Allegedly means it isn’t proven.” She smiled.
He didn’t react. “I want you and Hahnson to watch Stern closely,” he told her. “I have a—” he sought the right word “—feeling that there may be more to this than an erratic personality change.”
“You think the Rojoks may have gotten to him?”
He nodded. “Anything is possible. Stern would be a valuable tool in the hands of Rojok spies.”
There was a loud moan, coming from the back of the mess hall where Madeline had several critical cases in ambutubes. She moved quickly to peer inside the torpedo-shaped Plexiglas case. Inside was a blue-skinned Altairian boy, a clone, crying out in pain. His culture was notorious for its stoicism. The pain, she thought as she opened the case, must have been monstrous. She’d been giving him opiates since he’d been brought aboard. The pain hadn’t diminished very much.
She reached in with her wrist bank of precious opiates and started to laserdot one into his primary thoracic vein once more.
The commander’s arm came out and blocked the move.
“He’s in pain,” she began to protest.
Before she got the last word out, Dtimun bent over the boy. He touched him gently on the forehead and closed his eyes. Only a second later, the child looked up at him with royal-blue eyes and smiled.
“Degrak mogkrom,” the child said.
Dtimun actually smiled. “ Toshwa ,” he replied in the same tongue.
The little boy’s eyes closed. He went to sleep.
Dtimun stood erect, visibly affected by the action. He caught himself and stood erect.
“Sir, are you ill?” she asked.
“I am not,” he
She grimaced. She didn’t want to confess it to an outsider. Hahnson would never make public his knowledge of Stern’s condition without real need. This alien was different. She was apprehensive about what he might do if she told him the whole truth. “I’ve served with Stern and Hahnson for ten years,” she pointed out, “ever since I gave up combat command and obtained my medical degree.”
“And you feel loyalty to your captain. Is that not against regulations?”
The question was unexpected. Her eyes were troubled. “It is. I was an SSC Amazon Commando from the time I was nine, until my eighteenth year. When I left, I held the rank of captain,” she told him. “I never understood, either, why I left, or what led me to medicine. Even SSC HQ questioned the choice. It was inexplicable, even to me.”
“Sometimes,” he said in an oddly soft tone, “our destinies shape us, rather than the reverse.”
“Perhaps.” She turned back to the sensors. “Do you understand the basics of viral transmutation?”
He nodded. “We do not perform medical research, since even the most basic tampering with DNA in nonclones carries the death penalty in my culture. But we are privy to the experiments of your government with genetic alteration. Viruses are nonliving organisms which achieve the extreme of evolutionary specialization for parasitism.”
“Very good, Commander,” she said, impressed. “Well, Rojok scientists have found a method in which it is possible to engineer a virus and introduce it into a human body to activate certain behaviors, which would be abnormal under ordinary conditions.”
He folded his arms over his broad chest. “You speak of biogenetic engineering.”
She nodded. “It only takes a second to introduce the virus. It doesn’t even require injection. It can be placed in the nostril.” She hesitated. “Stern was missing for several hours. When he came back, his behavior was, to put it mildly, odd.”
“Hahnson said the same thing.”
“Yes. We’re both concerned. In fact,” she added, facing him, “Stern himself is concerned. He doesn’t understand why he didn’t interfere when you allegedly spaced Muldoon.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I suggest you omit the adverb if you repeat this conversation.”
“Allegedly means it isn’t proven.” She smiled.
He didn’t react. “I want you and Hahnson to watch Stern closely,” he told her. “I have a—” he sought the right word “—feeling that there may be more to this than an erratic personality change.”
“You think the Rojoks may have gotten to him?”
He nodded. “Anything is possible. Stern would be a valuable tool in the hands of Rojok spies.”
There was a loud moan, coming from the back of the mess hall where Madeline had several critical cases in ambutubes. She moved quickly to peer inside the torpedo-shaped Plexiglas case. Inside was a blue-skinned Altairian boy, a clone, crying out in pain. His culture was notorious for its stoicism. The pain, she thought as she opened the case, must have been monstrous. She’d been giving him opiates since he’d been brought aboard. The pain hadn’t diminished very much.
She reached in with her wrist bank of precious opiates and started to laserdot one into his primary thoracic vein once more.
The commander’s arm came out and blocked the move.
“He’s in pain,” she began to protest.
Before she got the last word out, Dtimun bent over the boy. He touched him gently on the forehead and closed his eyes. Only a second later, the child looked up at him with royal-blue eyes and smiled.
“Degrak mogkrom,” the child said.
Dtimun actually smiled. “ Toshwa ,” he replied in the same tongue.
The little boy’s eyes closed. He went to sleep.
Dtimun stood erect, visibly affected by the action. He caught himself and stood erect.
“Sir, are you ill?” she asked.
“I am not,” he
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