David Brin - The Heart of the Comet

And maybe that might dull the pain, when numbness turned to grief.

“Dispersal, yes.” Malenkov nodded silently, frowning. Carl realized they were still talking about what had killed Cruz and whether it was communicable. “Osborn here can adjust job schedules until we thaw Oakes.”

“I am going back to the lab,” Saul said. “I want a full dress review of the lab results.”

“I think not,” Malenkov said stiffly.

Carl saw that Saul was already half-lost in thought about paths of inquiry to follow, checks to make. Saul did not reply at once, but gazed off into space, toward the slot cap that had closed on Cruz. Then he turned slowly to Malenkov. “Ummm? What?”

“Is your turn, Saul.”

“What?”

“This death makes me more firm.” Malenkov bunched his lips together, whitening them, his jaw muscles set rigidly.

“We risk exposure to you even by this talking.” Malenkov gestured brusquely. “Into a slot.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Saul looked irked, as if Malenkov were pursuing a bad joke. “I can help. Hell, if some of my suspicions are true—”

“You are not so big and essential,” Malenkov said stiffly. “Peltier, she knows the immunology well—”

“I insist—”

“I will not risk you dropping dead, my friend.”

“Nicholas, I don’t have whatever killed Miguel Cruz!”

“Look at you—eyes red, nose running.” Malenkov gestured. “You have something . A microbe caught in your lab, could be.”

Virginia stepped to Saul’s side and felt his brow. “You’re hot,” she said.

Carl watched sourly as she put her hand on Saul’s face with unselfconscious intimacy. He looks damned sick to me. Malenkov may be right.

Virginia asked quietly, “How long have you been this way?”

“Days, off and on,” Saul said dismissively. “A cold, that’s all it is. Some fever.”

Malenkov said, “We cannot be sure.”

“I think it’s just a leftover from Matsudo ’s last damned bio challenge. Which doesn’t mean I’m Typhoid Mary.”

“The commander died in hours,” Malenkov said curtly.

“Not from anything he caught in my lab. He hasn’t even been near it.”

“Could catch it directly from you,” Malenkov said.

“Exactly! Then why am I still alive? Use your head, Nicholas. You need me to help track down his killer!”

“It is to save your own foolish life!” Malenkov shook his fist at Saul, tensing his whole body.

“Saul, you must.” Virginia urged, tightness skittering through her voice. “We can’t let you risk yours—”

“No more!” Malenkov shouted. His bulk made the command imposing. The chamber was of hardened plastaform and cupped the sound into a resonant, rolling boom. “No more!”

I knew he’d start browbeating if he ever got a chance, Carl thought. Let him get away with it now and we’ll be taking orders from him forever. I’ve seen guys like this before.

Part of it, though, was simple resentment over anyone giving orders when his captain was barely cold.

“You’re not commander,” Carl said mildly, suppressing his initial urge to raise his voice. “Life Support comes next in the crew chart, as I remember, and this falls under the category of a space emergency. I’m acting officer.”

All three looked at him with surprise. Scientists—they never look beyond their own fiefdoms.

Malenkov hesitated, glanced at the others, then nodded. “True… for now. Bethany Oakes, we can thaw her soon, however.”

“Go ahead.” Carl shrugged. Then she can play these power games with you and I’ll drop out.

Saul said judiciously, “That seems reasonable.”

Carl could not help but smile sardonically. You bet it is. I just saved your ass from the slots.

“I… agree,” Virginia added, but Carl saw conflicting emotions play across her face. They were so obvious to read. If Saul was slotted she would lose him for a year or two. But if he died …

Virginia and Saw Lintz? Carl was stunned. He couldn’t even think about that, right now.

“We’ve got other problems.” he stammered only briefly as he hurried on. “I came in to report some stuff clogging the filters in Shaft Three. We’d better deal with that , and soon.”

Malenkov said, “I still do not see why Saul—”

“Because we need every hand, that’s why!” Saul erupted.

Malenkov’s face compressed, his cheeks bulging, an adamant set to his jaw. “I do not agree.”

Carl said flatly, “Complain to Oakes.”

Malenkov abruptly jerked open the hatch. “One thing I have authority to do! Saul should keep away from all of us. I will not be in the same room with him any longer.”

Saul began, “Come on, Nick, you—”

“I am still chief of medicine!” Malenkov said angrily. “I log you as quarantined!”

“That’s—”

“No contact! You work in your own lab, alone. Enforce this, Carl Osborn, or I shall speak to Earth of this!” Malenkov pulled through quickly and slammed the hatch after himself. The others looked at each other.

“You know he’s right,” Virginia said angrily.

“Like hell I do. Thanks for stepping in like that,” Saul said to Carl. “I’d forgotten what the line of succession was. Organization charts aren’t my kind of thing.”

Carl shrugged. “I just knew damned well that no body’d set it up so Malenkov came next.”

Saul chuckled, and Carl smiled on the surface, though underneath he was in turmoil. He wondered whether he had in fact done the smart thing. He didn’t know enough about medicine, of course. He had simply followed his instincts. Years in space had taught him that that wasn’t usually a good idea.

What would the Commander think? He still wasn’t used to the idea yet. I never wanted to be in charge.

Virginia took Saul’s arm, chiding him about being up and about when he should be in bed. Carl felt a sudden pang of jealousy.

“Hey, he’s quarantined now, you know.”

Virginia frowned at him, but Saul nodded. “Carl’s right. I’ll crawl home by myself.”

If I hadn’t opened my mouth , he thought, Saul would be on his way out of our lives right now.

Maybe it hadn’t been so bright to speak up, after all.

On the other hand, Saul didn’t look like he’d last that much longer, anyway. And if they slotted him when he was near death, the fellow wouldn’t be coming back real soon, either.

He blinked as this thought surfaced. What are my real motives here?

It hurt even if he moved his eyes…

Throbbing aches, a muggy dullness filling his head, a dry rasp in his throat. I haven’t been hung over like this since I was twenty. That wild wine-tasting in L.A…

He sat up in total blackness, feeling the rustle of crisp sheets, and it all came back.

The Hawaiian woman, Kewani Langsthan, had come up with a big bottle of fiery coconut brandy to help Carl, Jim Vidor, and Ustinov violate Malenkov’s rule against gatherings, and drink to Captain Cruz’s memory. Whoever heard of Hawaiians holding an Irish wake?

He realized dimly that he had deliberately, stolidly gone about getting drunk. And even as he did, he knew it couldn’t blot out that awful despair, only daub it over.

Sometimes the only way to pay tribute to the dead was by a rousing, gut-busting ceremony of demented excess. About half the crew had reached the same conclusion.

But something else had happened … He tried to remember, failed.

Okay, fine. It was my off-duty time and I used it as I deemed appropriate, as the regs say. I just don’t have much talent for big-time carousing. Now I pay the price.