Balance of Terror (22 page)

If Saff noted the sarcasm in his tone, she ignored it. “Precisely.”

“How many
peas
can three people eat?” Cenredi complained softly.

“People need to buy fresh supplies,” Quinten mused, ignoring his engineer. “Vegetables, fruits, spices.”

“Humans and most other species can live adequately for a time on replicated foods, especially animal protein. However, regarding other food groups, it is well known that fresh vegetables, grown naturally, are the best.”

“We need to look for markets,” Srin said.

Saff nodded. “Fresh produce markets.”

“Are there any, Saff?”

“There are two, and both are frequented by personnel from the forty-seven vessels I mentioned.”

“How can you know that?” Moon asked with a frown.

“I’ve been tracking shuttle routes.”

The task was less complex than those she had set Srin during their research time together, but it was still impressive. Moon appreciated Saff’s thoroughness, even as her pulse quickened.

“So what are you suggesting, Saff?” That was Tamlan, casually propped up on one table, one leg swinging free.

“I suggest that Dr. Thadin and Mr. Cenredi visit the markets. Perhaps they can observe someone who is likely to be their contact.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” offered Moon. Surely if they were going to formulate another strategy, most probably that of deciding who their likely connection was, having the quick-witted Saff along would make more sense than the quick-mouthed Cenredi?

But Saff shook her head. “I do not…mix with humans readily.”

“It’s best if Saff maintains a low profile,” Tamlan cut in. “And I’m a little too well-known. I think Toy will be your best bet.”

Moon looked from one to the other. “All right. In that case, when do we start?”

Cenredi shrugged. ”It’s too late to scan the dinner-preparation crowd. They’d be done and hitting the porn vids by now. How does tomorrow morning sound, after breakfast?”

Did she have a choice? It was either her and Toy Cenredi…or nothing. Moon nodded. “All right. Tomorrow morning.”

Srin approached Quinten Tamlan in his quarters the following day, after Moon and Toy had left for their first tour of the markets.

“Thanks for seeing me,” Srin said, lowering himself into the seat opposite Tamlan’s small cabin desk. “I know you’re very busy.”

“Sixteen kilo-credits buys a lot of my time,” Quinten replied non-committally. “What can I help you with?”

“I was thinking of this plan from your second-in-command to do regular tours of the markets. How long are you prepared to carry them out for?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking your partner about that?”

Srin’s eyebrows rose and a wry expression crossed his face. “If you can ask that, you don’t know Moon very well.”

A smile tugged at Quinten’s lips. “That stubborn, is she?”

“Once she gets an idea in her head….”

“I know the type.” Tamlan paused and, when he spoke again, his voice had softened. “I’m prepared to do this for a week, maybe a day or two more. But no longer. The Republic’s sure to be on the way and I don’t want to get caught between an enforcement formation and a sweep patrol.”

“And what happens if we can’t find our contact?” Srin eyed the other man intently. “You have to admit, this plan is like a laser shot into the abyss.”

“Saff is very good at finding patterns. Things. People.”

“’Very good’ isn’t the same thing as ‘infallible’,” Srin countered. “And if our mysterious connection doesn’t behave in the way we’ve predicted, then we can tour the markets for two years and it won’t make a bit of difference.”

“In that case, what are you suggesting?”

“This may sound strange,” Srin hesitated, “but neither Moon nor I have felt as safe, or as happy, anywhere as we have on your ship.”

Quinten snorted. “Really? I got the impression that Dr. Thadin didn’t like any of us very much.”

“She’s not an easy person to get close to,” Srin commented, “and she can appear, ah, prickly on first contact but, once you have her trust, she’d rather die than betray it.” He held Quinten’s gaze. “And that’s something I know from personal experience.”

“From what I’ve gathered, your personal experience is somewhat less than a newborn baby’s.”

Srin laughed softly and shook his head. “You don’t hold back, do you? Sure, this stretch of a few months is the longest continuous stream of memories I’ve had in twenty years, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t gathered impressions of people. I trusted Moon, not just once but repeatedly. There is such an unshakeable core of strength in her that I couldn’t help but respond to, no matter how many two-day cycles I was subjected to.”

“And you’d like me to trust her, as you obviously did?”

“Not just her, but both of us.” Srin swallowed. “If we don’t find this much-vaunted contact of hers, I’d like to ask that you take us aboard as crew.”

Quinten watched him with a razor gaze. “And what can you offer us?”

“Well,” Srin smiled, “I may be getting on in years, but I’m still pretty strong. I’d be happy to do whatever odd jobs you have. Toy seems like a nice young man and I think I’d like the idea of being his assistant.”

“And Dr. Thadin?”

“She can be a doctor in a different way. Maybe you can put her in charge of your infirmary? She picks up information quickly and knows how to apply it even faster than that.”

“A physicist? As a ship’s medical officer?”

Srin shrugged. “They’re both scientific positions.”

“Yes,” then, almost reluctantly, Quinten added, “Saff has already spoken to me about this. It’s her opinion that Dr. Thadin would be a ‘favourable’ addition to the ship’s complement.”

Srin got the distinct impression that the
Perdition
’s second-in-command had used that precise word during her discussion, and suppressed a smile.

“But that still leaves open the question of you,” Quinten continued. “When you were first brought onboard, Dr. Thadin spoke of ‘medication’ that you needed. Isn’t that true any more?”

“Oh, it’s still true,” Srin breathed.

Quinten frowned and tapped the desktop with a finger. “What exactly is wrong with you?”

“It’s the after-effects of a series of drugs that the Republic kept me on. About three times every two weeks, my body temperature keeps rising until hyperpyrexia sets in. In addition, I also suffer from severe bouts of convulsions.

“When we were on Lunar Fifteen, waiting for our escape to Marentim, a doctor there gave Moon some medication to deal with my elevated body temperature, and Moon came up with a mix of drugs to suppress my spasms and keep my mind clear. The only problem is, I go into a severe crash every three or four days.

“I don’t think Moon wants to admit it, but I’m afraid that all the drugs I was pumped with while I was working for the Republic have damaged my DNA.”

“And I’m sure the drugs you’re taking now aren’t helping either.”

“They’re giving me quality of life,” Srin shot back, “which is a lot more than I got from my previous handler.”

Quinten gazed at him for several seconds. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Srin’s lips twisted. “I don’t suppose you have a fully-equipped DNA lab stashed away on this ship somewhere, do you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then, if we can’t find Moon’s contact, I’m a dead man,” Srin told him simply. “Maybe not now, but soon. I’m afraid the only way I can get better is if I undergo some expensive and lengthy therapy. I think we’ve got enough money for it, but where am I going to find the kind of facility I need? One that is advanced enough, yet unknown to the Republic?” He shook his head. “Better to face the inevitable than the impossible.”

“What do you want me to do?” Quinten asked, after a pause.

Srin had seen snippets of humanity beneath Quinten’s brusqueness, but that one question reassured him that he had chosen his confidant correctly. Quinten hadn’t asked what would happen next, where Srin wanted to go, how he wanted to gift his possessions. Taking on responsibility as easily as donning a jacket, he had instead asked what he needed to do.

Srin closed his eyes, a smile on his face, before opening them again. Something tickled his nose and he had to blink several times.

“If things turn out the way I’m thinking….” He swallowed and started again. “Look after her for me. Don’t let her leave. She might try to, full of grief and anger and guilt with herself, but don’t allow her to. This ship’s the best thing to have happened to her in a long time and I don’t want her to throw it away.”

“And you? Assuming you’re correct and we don’t find this mysterious contact of Dr. Thadin’s, that is.”

“Shoot me into a star somewhere. That was Moon’s area of research, but you knew that, didn’t you? I think we’d both appreciate the significance of it.”

Dry-eyed, Quinten stared at him. Then nodded. “Okay.”

Srin half-rose and offered his hand. “Will you shake on it?”

“Shake on a deal involving death?”

But Quinten mirrored Srin’s movements and the men’s hands clasped above the desk.

“Thanks, Quinten.”

Quinten’s brow quirked. “Don’t ever mention it.”

The markets resembled freezer rooms tacked on to narrow shopfronts. Every now and then, as someone entered the goods area to get food containers, ripples of cold would roll out from behind the transparent doors, lapping at the customers’ feet like translucent white waves. Posters, luridly decorated in primary colours, advertised the specific food products available at each counter, guaranteeing them against limpness, cryogenic burns, and disease transmission. Protected from the ultra-cold and bundled in swathes of thermal clothing, with not a single extremity showing, the merchants could have been humans or aliens. Communication was carried out either by a mixture of short phrases and gestures, or via duplex displays embedded in the counters.

Toy took a deep breath and hit his chest. “Ah, all that fresh food. You can just smell the goodness, can’t you?”

All Moon could smell was coolant. The floor under her feet was wet and she was afraid of slipping into the puddles of grey liquid that dotted the clumsily-laid and uneven pavement.

“Are you joking?” she asked.

He looked up at her and an expression of pity filled his face. “You’re just like Saff, you know that? She doesn’t have a sense of humour either.”

“Humour is one thing,” she replied tartly, “sarcasm is something else again.”

Without waiting for a response, she started down the nearest alleyway. “Let’s get started.”

“Whatever you say, doc. Say, why are you called a doctor anyway? You don’t know any medicine, do you?”

Moon thought of benzodiazepine, of cognitive enhancers and of spasm suppressants. “Not much,” she replied, scanning her surroundings for anyone that looked out of place. Although, with not even a clue as to who – or what – was due to meet them, how was she going to know?

“So why the ‘doctor’ tag then?”

She thought she could hear an insolent shrug in that one sentence.

“It’s a term from old Earth,” she replied. “Old
old
Earth. It just means I can teach, that’s all.”

“You saying that the original medical doctors were nothing more than teachers?”

“That’s right.” She tried peering into the frosted windows of the shopfronts. “Medicine, law and philosophy. Those were the first three big areas of instruction.”

She was going to have to wear warmer clothing if she wanted to traipse around the food merchants for any length of time. Already, she could feel the chill starting to seep into her fingers. Clenching her fists and folding her arms, she continued walking.

“What’s the other market like?” she asked, after ten minutes of silence.

“Guess.”

She winced. She was afraid of that. She had never before thought of frozen food as being so…depressing to be around. Even the deliberately mislabelled boxes in Gauder’s tanks had been more interesting, imbibed with a sense of danger and farce at the same time.

“Let’s stroll around for an hour,” she decided, “then we’ll try the second market.”

“And then what? We just keep going back and forth, hopping like fleas from one place to the other?”