‘About what?’
Andrews silently counted to five before smiling. ‘About the woman. Don’t toy with me anymore. I think that I’ve made my position clear, personally as well as professionally.’
‘Why should I know anything other than the self-evident about her?’
‘Because you spend every second you can with her. And I have my suspicions that not all of your concerns are medical in nature. You are far too solicitous of her needs. It doesn’t fit your personality profile. You just said yourself that she’s fit and able to get around fine on her own. D’you think I’m blind? Do you think I’d have been given this post if I wasn’t capable of picking up on the slightest deviations from the norm?’ He muttered to himself. ‘Deviates’ deviations.’
Clemens sighed. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘That’s better.’ Andrews nodded approvingly. ‘Has she said anything to you? Not about herself personally. I don’t give a damn about that. Wallow in mutual reminiscence all you want, I don’t care. I mean professionally. About where she’s come from.
What her mission was, or is. Most particularly, what the hell was she doing in an EEV with a busted droid, a drowned six-year-old kid, and a dead corporal, and where the hell is the rest of her ship’s crew? For that matter, where the hell is her ship?’
‘She told me she was part of a combat team that came to grief. The last she remembers was going into deep sleep. At that time the marine was alive and the girl’s cryotube was functioning normally. It’s been my assumption all along that the girl was drowned and the marine killed in the crash of the EEV.
‘I assume beyond that it’s all classified. I haven’t pressed her for more. She does carry marine lieutenant rank, you know.’
‘That’s all?’ Andrews persisted.
Clemens studied his empty teacup. ‘Yes.’
‘Nothing more?’
‘No.’
‘You’re sure?’
The medic looked up and met the older man’s eyes evenly.
‘Very sure.’
Andrews’s gaze dropped to his hands and he spoke through clenched teeth. It was obvious there was more, something the medic wasn’t telling him, but short of physical coercion there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. And physical coercion wouldn’t work with someone like Clemens, whose inherent stubbornness would keep him from admitting that he had no pride left to defend.
‘Get out of here.’
Clemens rose wordlessly and started a second time for the door.
‘One more thing.’ The medic paused, looked back to find the superintendent watching him closely. ‘I take comfort in the daily routine here. So do you. There’s a great deal of reassurance to be found in codified monotony. I’m not going to let it be broken. Systematic repetition of familiar tasks is the best and safest narcotic. I’m not going to allow the animals to become agitated. Not by a woman, not by accidents. Not by you.’
‘Whatever you say,’ Clemens replied agreeably.
‘Don’t go getting any funny ideas. Independent action is a valueless concept on Fiorina. Don’t think too much. It’ll damage your standing in our little community, especially with me, and you’ll only end up hurting yourself. You’ll do better to keep your long-term goals in mind at all times.
‘Your loyalties are to this operation, and to your employer.
Not to strangers, or to some misguided notions you may happen to erect on the foundation of your own boredom. She will be gone soon and we will still be here. You and I, Dillon and Aaron and all the rest. Everything will be as it was before the EEV crashed. Don’t jeopardize your enviable situation for a temporary abstraction. Do you understand?’
‘Yes. Your point is quite clear. Even to someone like me.’
Andrews continued to brood uneasily. ‘I don’t want trouble with our employers. I don’t want trouble of any kind. I get paid to see that trouble doesn’t happen. Our presence here is. .
frowned upon by certain social elements back on Earth. Until the accident we hadn’t suffered a death from other than natural causes since the day this group took over caretaking duties from its predecessors. I am aware that it could not have been prevented but it still looks bad in the records. I don’t like looking bad, Mr. Clemens.’ He squinted up at the medic. ‘You take my meaning?’
‘Perfectly, sir.’
Andrews continued. ‘Rescue and resupply will be here soon enough. Meanwhile, you keep an eye on the lieutenant and if you observe anything, ah, potentially disruptive, I know that I can rely on you to notify me of it immediately. Right?’
Clemens nodded briskly. ‘Right.’
Though only partially mollified, the other man could think of nothing more to say. ‘Very well, then. We understand one another. Good night, Mr. Clemens.’
‘Good night, Superintendent.’ He shut the door quietly behind him.
The wind of Fiorina rose and fell, dropping occasionally to querulous zephyrs or rising to tornadic shrieks, but it never stopped. It blew steadily off the bay, carrying the pungent odour of salt water to the outer sections of the installation. Sometimes storms and currents dredged odours more alien from the depths of the sea and sent them spiraling down through the air shafts, slipping through the scrubbers to remind the men that the world they occupied was foreign to the inhabitants of distant Earth, and would kill them if it could.
They went outside but rarely, preferring the familiar surroundings of the immense installation to the oppressive spaciousness of the sullen landscape. There was nothing to look at except the dark waves that broke on the black sand beach, nothing to remind them of the world they had once known. That was fortunate. Such memories were more painful than any degree of toil.
The water was cold and home to tiny, disgusting creatures that bit. Sometimes a few of the men chose to go fishing, but only for physical and not spiritual nourishment. Inside the facility it was warm and dry. The wind was no more than distant, discordant music, to be ignored. Sometimes it was necessary to go outside. These excursions were invariably brief, and attended to with as much haste as possible, moving from one refuge to another as quickly as possible.
In contrast, the figure picking through the sheltered mountain of debris was doing so with deliberation and care.
Ripley paced the surface of the immense pit, her eyes fixed on its irregular surface. The original excavation had been filled in with discarded, broken equipment. She wrestled her way past monumental components, punctured storage tanks, worn-out drill bits the size of small trucks, brightly coloured vines of old wiring and corroded tubes.
Wind whipped around outside and she clutched at the neck of the suit Clemens had found for her. The ruined mechanical landscape had seemed endless and the cold was still penetrating her muscles, slowing her and interfering with her perceptions.
Not to the extent, however, that she failed to see the expensive silvery filaments protruding from a smaller pimple of recently discarded trash. Kneeling, she began tearing at the refuse, heaving ruined equipment and bags of garbage aside to reveal. .
Bishop.
Or, more accurately, what was left of him. The android components were scattered amid the rest of the junk and she had to dig and sort for another hour before she was certain she’d salvaged absolutely everything that might be of use.
She made a preliminary attempt to correctly position the parts. Not only was the result unencouraging, it was downright pitiful. Most of the face and lower jaw was missing, crushed beyond recognition in the EEV or lost somewhere within the mass of trash outside. Portions of the neck, left shoulder, and back had somehow survived intact. In addition there were sensitive related components which had spilled or been torn free from the exterior shell.