Acorna stroked RK and hung pouches of new fluids to flow into his veins. Abuelita had taught them how to rig up and sterilize makeshift kits for administering intravenous fluids for waiting patients. But everything they administered seemed to leak out of the patients as quickly as it went in.
Furthermore, the water and air supplies were both getting low, and neither Linyaari had enough power left to purify other sources.
In between putting cold cloths on Joh's neck, armpits, and groin to keep his fever down, Aari kept up a steady psychic stream of memories of their adventures together, of all the times Joh had saved his life.
Acorna rubbed RK's head and ears and the places behind his whiskers and reminded him of when they were in close psychic communication on the cat's homeworld of Makahomia. She asked him to recall all of the beautiful jungle temple cats he'd met, including the one who had borne him the litter of kittens from which Khiindi had come. "Remember, Roadkill, that you are no common feline, but regarded as a superior life-form on Makahomia. Think how sad Nad-hari and Miw-Sher would be if you depart this life without saying farewell to them. Also, you should remember that you are a very mature cat, spiritually as well as physically, and have probably already exhausted most of your other lives. You must hang on to this one as long as possible. Continue your long nap, continue your passive feed, but do not leap into your next life yet. It may not be there when you land."
If only they could take the two of them to the surface, where even in isolation they could receive the food and water she and Aari had purified when their horns were potent. But from their research they both feared that the plague they carried may have mutated when filtered through the Linyaari system. They might kill the survivors they had just rescued, and Joh and RK as well.
One at a time, each had taken a break from their psychic interaction with their respective patients to try to send a long-distance message to their own people, praying that somehow it would get through. Then it was back to the grueling efforts of trying to keep their friends alive.
Jonas P. Becker was not a religious man, even though his first mate was of a species worshiped on the planet of Makahomia. Becker had been orphaned, enslaved, then adopted and raised by his scientist foster father, Theophilus Becker, to be a scientist. Of sorts.
The thing was, when you got to a certain level of theoretical physics, it was very difficult to tell if you were talking science or religion. Much of it sounded similar. Religion-maybe-was more like theoretical history with some miracles thrown in here and there. The courtesy and suspension of disbelief Becker accorded alien priesthoods and cat deities did not extend to human holy rollers and missionaries.
He was not sure he had a soul. He knew there was a core of stubborn self, of course, but he felt that it was unlikely to sprout wings, ascend any higher than he already was above the Condor, or learn to play a harp.
So he was totally unprepared for what awaited him after he had emptied his guts, coughed up his lungs, and felt as if the Khleevi bug-eyed monsters were taking revenge on him by pulling his brains out his ears and his skin off his muscle, his muscle off the bone. That was the kind of pain that he was feeling.
But then, although he was in no less pain, he suddenly shifted places, as if he'd gone through a wormhole and come out the other side. The pain was there, but it was beside the point. The point was that bright light at the end of the wormhole-yep, he was in a wormhole all right. He became sort of alarmed when he realized that he was passing through the hole toward the light ass over teakettle without the Condor surrounding him.
He became aware of a voice in his head, Aari's voice, and he said, just kidding, "What light through this here wormhole breaks?" and Aari replied, "Light? Oh, no, Joh, you see the light when you are dying, it says here in Ancient Terran Myths of Life and Death. Do not go to the light, Joh. You do not belong there yet."
But Becker tumbled ever closer and closer, though now it seemed he was bodiless. Except, it wasn't true that there was no Condor around him. Not exactly. He was the Condor, all patched and bolted together, and he was roaring through that wormhole focusing more and more intently on that light. If he could just see what it was-just a little closer.
"Joh. No! You are slipping from me. Do not go to the light. Do not look at it."
And from somewhere Becker formed the thought, "Then you look at the damn thing. Don't you guys ever check the scanner array?"
That said, he continued dying.
Chapter 28
As spaceflights went, the one from Rio Boca to Dinero Grande was a mere commuter hop.
On the bridge, everything seemed uneventful. Marl remained firmly in charge, though he might have been more suspicious of the unnaturally meek demeanor of the rest of the crew. But flushed with the success of his first venture, he no doubt figured he had them cowed. He had stepped out of sight outside the bridge door to turn off the timer to the bomb, then come back inside.
This time, instead of orbiting, Marl insisted that since there was no one to enforce the Federation quarantine, the Mana should land in the private port attached to the mansion of his dreams.
"You're just the most helpful little thing, Khorii," he said. "That passenger roster you brought from the derelict is great. I just pick out the ones from Dinero Grande that I recognize-like these. The woman was a major exporter to drug companies, and her husband was in the shadier side of the business. I've heard about their place. It's a bloody palace. Ought to do nicely for my pied-a-terre here."
While the Mana was en route, he enthused about the baths of rock crystal and the kitchen large enough for fourteen chefs with an oven so large that it could hold two entire oxen.
Captain Bates suddenly said, "That's odd."
"What?"
"Look, the com board just lit up. It looks like the Federation relays have been reestablished."
Marl looked, and said, "All at once? Nah, that doesn't mean anything. Those are all remote. Nothing from around here. Don't get your hopes up. Nobody's going to be calling up to rescue you."
Just then the com unit beeped. Captain Bates toggled up the vid. "Mana, this is Acorna Harakamian-Li aboard the Condor. Please do not count on us for aid.We are extremely contaminated and have two very sick crewmen on board. We read that you are in trouble but if it is at all possible for you to get word back through other vessels to Maganos Moonbase and the Federation, please ask them to send word to the Linyaari homeworld. Our own people are our only . . ."
Khorii ran forward. Her mother's voice had poured over her like a shower of comfort and warmth until she took in the words, then she felt frightened as she never had been before. Marl blocked her way and pulled the toggle back, then reached over and shut down the distress signal.
"What a clever captain you are, Asha," he said. "I may have to kill you once we land. The truth is, I don't need any of you anymore."
"Marl, that was Khorii's mother we just heard," Captain Bates said. "Why don't you get out here on Dinero Grande and go live happily ever after, but let us go try to help them?"
"Okay, fine," he said, and although Khorii couldn't believe it, she relaxed enough to release some of the tightness that had constricted her chest since hearing her mother's voice.
"Everybody but Khorii can run off and rescue everyone in sight."
"It's her parents, Fidd. And she's probably the only one who can help them."
"Tough," he said. "Because she's the only one who can help me, too, and in case you've forgotten, I still have the detonator. Land this thing, dammit. You can off-load my cargo, then Khorii and I will leave, and you can take off and go do anything you bloody well choose."