Serpent's Gift (23 page)

Volatile, extremely radioactive, it requires special techniques to contain, seal off, then remove it. If I may borrow the medical analogy again, it's like an infected limb that must be amputated, and the stump cauterized."

Now it was Rob's turn to shudder as he remembered a patient on Jolie that he'd once treated. The man had fallen while rock climbing, and by the time he'd been missed, located, and rescued, gangrene had been far advanced.

Despite all the advances of modern medicine, his leg had been beyond saving. He'd nearly died.

"How do you accomplish this . .. amputation and cauterization?" Kkintha ch'aait asked.

"We generate very high heat, and use that to vaporize the radonium-2. Then we use vapor-collection tanks to remove the R-2. It's a delicate process, because if that transuranic element begins to fission, it will set up a chain reaction, and when that happens . . ." he trailed off, shaking his head silently.

Andrea Lynch smiled, a faint, derisive smile. "Boom," she said flatly.

"Boom," Rob repeated softly, his mouth dry. "As in mushroom- cloud 'boom.'

"

"It wouldn't make a mushroom shape in space, without gravity or air pressure," Lynch pointed out. "It would be a sphere."

I'm so glad we have you here to tell us these things
... the quotation ran through Rob's mind, but he bit his tongue and remained silent. Sarcasm wouldn't help. Lynch was definitely lacking in the winning personality department, but they needed her on their side.

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"But after you do all of this ... vaporizing and sealing and vapor collection"--

Janet Rodriguez frowned worriedly--"will the radonium be safe again?"

"Sure," Lynch replied offhandedly, stealing a not-so- surreptitious glance at her watch. "Just as long as you keep those archaeologists of yours from playing around with their toys."

"Just a moment," Ssoriszs said slowly. "Are you saying that the archaeology dig must be
closed
after you finish your work?"

Lynch shrugged. "Who do you think caused this mess? It certainly wasn't my people! When we checked that site six months ago, it was completely stable.

Something
started the decrystallization, and it had to be them. Reactions like that don't happen spontaneously."

"No, they do not," Janet said, too evenly. "But I find it hard to believe that Serge and Professor Greyshine caused this. It seems far more likely to me that the radonium was affected by some other factor--the neutrons given off by ships entering or leaving metaspace, perhaps--and that your people missed the signs during your most recent check."

"Impossible," Lynch snapped. "I went over their results myself, and so did Jeff. It had to be those archaeologists."

"Andrea ..." Jeff Morrow said, then he hesitated. "I know we were careful," he continued finally, "but it
is
possible that one of the crew missed something.

Nobody is perfect."

"I didn't miss anything," Lynch said brusquely. "It was the archaeologists, and I can prove it. I took a look at those toys of theirs while we were checking out the site, and guess what I found? Something called a neutron emitter. I'm sure that was what triggered the reaction."

Ssoriszs' tentacles stopped waving and his sleek body froze into stillness--a sure sign of great distress among his people, Rob knew. "Serge told me last night when I spoke with him that the Professor was using the neutron emitter when the alarm sounded," the alien said finally. "But the vein of radonium ...

it lies five meters below the surface of the cavern."

"Rock is no barrier to neutrons," Lynch cried triumphantly, swooping like a vulture to seize on the Mizari's words. She favored the group with another caustic smile. "Neutrons are stopped by light-hydrogenous materials--water, oil, plastics ... and flesh. Rock hardly fazes them."

"Oh, shit," Rob muttered under his breath, picturing Serge's face if the young man weren't permitted to continue with the

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excavation. Serge would be devastated . . . Rob knew how much he'd invested in this dig. In the past six years the young man had lost his hands, his career as a pianist, his career as an interrelator, and, just months ago, the first woman he'd ever cared for deeply. How many such blows could anyone take without breaking down? "You mean they won't be able to finish excavating?"

"I see no reason why they can't continue their work," Jeff said, giving Ssoriszs a reassuring glance. "But they probably wouldn't be able to use the neutron emitter again."

'The neutron emitter is a fairly recent invention, and archaeologists managed without it before," Janet pointed out. "I suspect Serge and Greyshine can make do without it." Her expression grew thoughtful. "But, really, the more I think about it, the more I can't agree with your reasoning, Ms. Lynch.

"You see, / helped Professor Greyshine assemble and calibrate that neutron emitter, and the intensity level simply wasn't set high enough to cause such a reaction. Believe me"--her eyes held the black woman's--"we aren't fools."

Janet's unspoken "even though you obviously think we are" fairly echoed in the silence. "Both the Professor and I know what happens when radonium is bombarded with neutrons, and we checked the location of the radonium vein beneath the cavern floor. We were careful to set the emitter on the lowest intensity level."

"Maybe it got turned up by accident," Jeff suggested.

"Don't forget that crevasse," Lynch said. "My scanners showed that it was really deep. It's possible that one of your people scanned the walls of the crevasse and started the reaction breeding that way. Check with them."

"We can't ask Professor Greyshine," Janet said. "They're keeping him in hiber-heal for a couple of days. But Serge might know."

"I suspect that Dr. Andreiovitch will be able to tell us whether the neutron emitter initiated the reaction," Ssoriszs said thoughtfully.

Jeff Morrow sat bolt upright, eyes widening.
"Mikhail
Andreiovitch? You know him? You've been in touch with him about this?"

"Yes. I requested his help in this crisis. He and Esteemed Rizzshor embarked yesterday from Shassiszss. The Council arranged priority transport for them."

Andrea Lynch gasped, and when she spoke her voice was shrill.

"Andreiovitch is coming
here!"
she blurted.

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"Wonderful!" Jeff exclaimed. He turned to regard his assistant, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "That's the best news I've heard all week," he said, grinning. "Andreiovitch is one of the foremost authorities in the field.

His advice will be invaluable.

Tight-lipped, Lynch nodded silently.

Something's going on here,
Rob thought, eyeing the woman thoughtfully.

For some reason Lynch doesn't want Andreiovitch to come here. Why?

Could she have made some kind of mistake six months ago, and is trying to
cover it up?

"What ship did he take?" Jeff asked. "And when is it due?"

"Andreiovitch and Rizzshor should be here in approximately ten Standard days," Ssoriszs said. "They are aboard the
Night Storm--
one of the swiftest Mizari courier vessels."

"By that time, we may have this whole thing cleared up," Lynch muttered.

"It would be an honor just to meet him," Jeff said. He glanced around the table, then at his watch. "Our crew will be assembling up at the station by now, so unless there's something else, we'd better get up there to make sure everything is in order."

"Jeffrey--" Ssoriszs extended one appendage with its tip turned up, almost like a pleading hand. "This crew of yours .. ." he hesitated, and Rob knew from long association that the Liaison was embarrassed by what he was thinking. "Are they ... have you known them long?"

"Most of them," Jeff said, giving him a puzzled glance. "People in the mining and space construction business move around a lot, by necessity, but they're a good crew, I assure you. What's on your mind?"

Lynch stood, her mouth tight with impatience. "He's worried about his precious artifacts, Jeff," she explained bluntly. "His star-whatchamacallit and such."

"I assure you, Esteemed One"--Jeff made a placating gesture-- "that I'll caution everyone that the items are valuable and not to disturb them."

"And if they should find anything new .. ." Ssoriszs still wasn't satisfied, but he was trying to get as much of a commitment out of the engineer as he could. "Please, could you notify us?"

"We'll call you," Lynch promised, surprising Rob. "And tell your Professor that I learned my lesson last time, after the fit he pitched when we moved that junk. If we find anything this time, we'll call him and ask for instructions before we move it. Okay?" She rocked back on her heels, arms crossed over her chest with a "what could possibly be fairer?" expression.

135

"Thank you," Ssoriszs said, somewhat reassured, though Lynch's patronizing expression made it hard to credit her sincerity.

Morrow, too, stood. "If there are no further questions--" he began, but broke off as Kkintha ch'aait waved her little forelimh, "Just one, Jeffrey," she said. "I am relieved that you are confident that this problem can be contained and eliminated, but... what if you are unable to halt this radonium reaction . .. this

'breeding'? What then?"

Jeff gave her a crooked smile. "Administrator, my dad has a saying, 'Don't cross that bridge till you come to it.' You want the worst-case scenario? If we can't stop the radonium-2 from breeding, the reaction will start to spread rapidly. If such a thing were to happen, it would be too dangerous for anyone to stay here."

"You mean we would have to leave? Evacuate the students?"

"Unless you'd like to wind up as part of a pint-sized cosmic dust cloud, the answer's yes," Lynch said dryly. "Just in case, maybe you'd better check out how long it would take you to ship those kids out of here, Administrator."

For the first time, Morrow seemed to react to Lynch's mordant humor.

"Andrea!" He gave her a reproving glance. "That's nothing to kid about.

Kkintha . .." he hesitated. "Don't worry. At the moment all indications are favorable. But we'll report again as soon as we've done a more thorough analysis in a couple of days. If anything so ... drastic ... became necessary, you'd have plenty of warning."

Kkintha nodded, a gesture she'd picked up after years of association with humans. "Thank you, Jeffrey," she said. "I appreciate your frankness."

Rob stood up. "I'll walk you out," he said, and the three of them headed for the door.

Once through it, Andrea Lynch strode ahead, her long legs quickly outdistancing the two men. "She must be a real pleasure to work with every day," Rob said dryly, lowering his voice so the woman wouldn't hear.

Jeff's mouth twitched, then he gave a resigned sigh. "Andrea is a damned good crew boss and engineer," he said ruefully, "but usually I don't take her along when I talk to clients. She rubs everyone the wrong way."

"I'll say," Rob agreed fervently. "But if she's the best person for the job..." He shrugged.

"She is," Morrow said. "She definitely is the best." He sighed again, this time wearily. "God, I'm tired. Seems like it's been at

136

least
a month since I've had a good night's sleep."

"The insomnia's
back?"
Rob
asked, remembering how tor
mented Jeff
had been by
sleeplessness before he'd left the Acad
emy. At the
time,
he'd
recognized that it was a symptom of
depression, and had
treated it with hypno-therapy and medication.
"Or have
you just been overworking?"

Morrow
ran a hand through his hair. "A little of both, maybe,"
he
admitted.

Rob
caught a glimpse of something metallic glittering amid the now-tousled strands of Jeff's hair, and when he looked more closely, the psychologist was surprised to realize that Morrow was wearing a teledistort. Lynch's wearing one seemed perfectly in keeping with her personality, but seeing Jeff wearing one struck Rob as odd. "Feeling paranoid today?" he asked, trying to keep it light. "Or has she infected you?"

When Morrow looked confused, Rob tugged at his own ear. "The distort," he explained.

"Oh ...
that."
Jeff rolled his eyes. "I forgot I had it on. I've been wearing it night and day since I left StarBridge Station for a series of meetings with one of our subcontractors. You've been in academia too long, Rob. This is S.O.P.

during business meetings nowadays," he said, touching the earcuff.

"Companies have taken to hiring telepaths to 'monitor' conversations."

"That's unethical!" Rob protested. "Blackmail is a natural result of such a practice!"

Morrow shrugged. "You're right," he agreed. "But how are you going to stop it?"

I
hope nobody tells Heather Farley about that,
Rob thought grimly. "I suppose you can't," he said. "But it's too bad that those telepaths are making a living abusing their talent, when we have such a crying need for them here."

When they reached the airlock, they halted. Rob's gaze searched Morrow's face, finding new lines as well as the shadows beneath the younger man's eyes. "Get some sleep, okay?" he said, putting a hand on his friend's arm and giving it a little shake. "You look like hell, Jeff."

Morrow gave him a crooked grin. "You don't look so hot yourself, Doc," he said, pretending to peer at Rob's hair. "You're getting as gray as an old dog I once had. This place is sucking you dry, Rob."

The psychologist gave him a rueful grin. "That makes two of my friends in two days who have reminded me I'm getting gray," he said, shaking his head. "Maybe I ought to dye it."

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Jeff's blue eyes narrowed. "Maybe you ought to get out of here," he said softly.

Startled, Rob started to laugh the remark off, then saw that Morrow was serious. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded. "You said you'd be able to contain the radonium--stop it from breeding!"

The engineer shrugged. "I wasn't talking about that," he said reassuringly.