The Ship Who Sang
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Серия: brainship #1
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Ship Who Sang». Краткое содержание книги:
Her life was to be rich and rewarding . . . resplendent with daring adventures and endless excitement, beyond the wildest dreams of mere mortals.
Gifted with the voice of an angel and being virtually indestructible, Helva XH-834 anticipated a sublime immortality.
Then one day she fell in love!
The four people in the front rank must be her passengers; they wore shipsuits. Helva enlarged the picture and it was easy to see which one needed controlled gravity. Half-grav, at least, she decided. The man walked with that terrible exertion of someone unused to and uncomfortable in full grav, whose muscles strained to work against the heavy drag. Helva could see that even his face muscles sagged. A pity, for he was a handsome man. Yet he kept his shoulders erect, his head high, too proud to permit physical disability to rob him of dignity.
She was so interested in him that she got only a glance at the other man and the two women before everyone had swept up to the lock.
The port official stepped hastily out of the way as a very distinguished older man with a cluster of academic knots on his tunic held out his hand to the striking woman beside him.
"Here's your personal magic carpet, to carry you to Regulus Base. May I say that it has been a great personal pleasure, Ansra Colmer, to meet you? Officially, the University of Duhr appreciated your willingness to interrupt a personal visit with Solar Prane to give our students the benefit of your art. Your Antigone was inspired. your Phorus II monologue made me appreciate for the first time the vital interplay of color, odor, and rhythm. You're an amazingly versatile exponent of your art and one, I trust, soon to receive the accolade, Solara."
The smile on Ansra Colmer's carefully composed face seemed to stiffen slightly and there was absolutely no echo of humor in her glittering eyes.
"You are too kind, Director, particularly since Duhr has its own Solar," and she made a half turn towards the grav-sufferer. "How can you bear to part with him?" And, not waiting for an answer, she strode past the lock and into the main cabin. With her back to the noisy well-wishers, Helva could see that her expression was now one of suppressed anger and hatred.
The Director cleared his throat as if understanding all too well her innuendo. He bowed gravely toward the Solar.
"You can't be dissuaded, Prane?"
"Central Worlds has made too strong a representation of its needs, Director. It is my duty to my profession to accept, hoping that any honor merited in the undertaking reflects on you for your many kindnesses." Prane's voice was rich, resonant, the voice of the trained professional performer. If Helva noticed the odd hollowness, the occasional wispiness as if the tone were half-supported, her sensors were keener than the ears of the adoring crowd of young students and patient officials.
"Solar Prane will be back in triumph before the term is ended," said the other male passenger, "preserved by the skill of Miss Ster."
"Truly spoken, Davo Fillanaser," the Director agreed heartily, turning now to shake the hand of the young woman beside Solar Prane.
Helva was fascinated by the various undertones in this farewell scene. It ought not be a boring trip, at any rate.
"We must not hold up the pilot any longer," Solar Prane said. With a charmingly apologetic smile, he waved broadly to the crowd, which sighed of its sorrow and murmured regrets, even shed a few tears, as he stepped backward into the lock, his arm hooked through Miss Ster's.
The man addressed as Davo Fillanaser ranged himself beside them, smiling and waving, too.
Solar Prane turned his head toward the young woman and Helva saw him mouth a quick sentence.
"I can't stand much longer, Kurla. Tell the pilot to close the lock."
Immediately Helva activated the lock portal.
"Help me, Davo," Kurla cried, as the crowd was shut from view. She threw her arm around the Solar's waist as the man's large frame seemed to collapse against her.
"Damn fool," Davo muttered, but he used extreme care in assisting. . . as if he were concerned about hurting Prane.
"I'm all right. I'm all right," Prane insisted in a hoarse whisper.
"That farewell party was madness in your condition and in full gray," Kurla said.
"The hero must have a hero's farewell," drawled Ansra Colmer. The smile on her face as she turned toward them was sincere now, sincerely vicious; and her eyes sparkled with intense pleasure at Prane's debility.
"The hero is not yet on his shield, Ansra," the Solar replied, almost as if he relished the notion of defying her. He put Kurla from him, touched Davo's supporting hand, which fell away, and slowly, carefully, crossed the cabin.
"Misfire, Ansra?" Davo asked, following the Solar at a discreet interval.
"Ansra's steel gives me backbone," the Solar chuckled, and Helva could have sworn, again, that these bitter undercurrents were therapeutic. The Solar's medical attendant evidently did not agree.
"That is quite enough," she said with a professional impersonality and, disregarding Prane's independence, threw an arm around his waist and supported him the rest of the way toward the couch. "This ought to be a shock-mattress," she said, flipping back the mesh blanket. "Good." Deftly, she turned the Solar, easing him down to the bed. She then extracted a medical recorder from the pouch at her side. Her expression was detached and her eyes intent as she ran a check on him.
Helva peeked at the dials and gauges and was a little puzzled by some of the readings. The heart strain was not at all excessive, although the pulse was rapid from exertion. The blood pressure was too low for someone under stress, and too high for a man apparently used to low grav conditions. The more perplexing reading was the EEG. Prane was trembling now with reaction to extreme muscular stress, supine, he looked old and tired.
"What are you giving me now, Kurla?" he demanded sharply, rousing as he saw her preparing an i.v. spray.
"A relaxant and. . ."
"No sedations, no blocks. I forbid it.'*
"I'm the medical attendant, Solar Prane," she said in a firm, impersonal voice.
His hand trembled as he grabbed for her wrist, but Helva could see the fingers pressed deeply into her flesh. Kurla Ster looked him directly in the eye.
"You cannot tolerate liftoff without some sedation, after exerting yourself for that party. . ."
"Give me the relaxant, Kurla, but nothing more. I can cope with the discomfort. . . alone. Once in space, the pilot can adjust the gravity."
It was a contest of wills, with Davo an interested spectator. Curiously enough, Helva noticed that Davo had been on Prane's side, judging by the sigh the man exhaled as the young m.a. replaced the other vials to her pouch and injected but one medication.
"Where is that pilot?" she demanded of Davo as she left the cabin, sliding the door firmly shut behind her.
"Pilot?" Ansra Colmer repeated, idly swinging the pilot's chair on its gimbals. "You were too engrossed in adoring worship of the Solar's classic profile to heed what journey briefing we received."
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Ansra, sheathe your claws. You're becoming a bore," Davo said, propelling Kurla to a seat with a warning smile. "This is a brain ship, Kurla. No other pilot is necessary. We need only settle ourselves down for the trip."
"Miss Colmer, if you don't. . ."
"And be quiet," Davo added firmly to Kurla, his hand on her forearm, cautioning obedience. "The sooner we take off, the better it is for Prane, right?"
She subsided, still rebellious. To aggravate matters, Ansra Colmer smiled triumphantly at her capitulation.
"Let's go," Davo said, nodding over his shoulder toward Helva.
"Thank you, Mr. Fillanaser, and welcome aboard the XH 834," Helva said quietly, achieving an impersonal tone with some difficulty. "Fasten your harness for takeoff." Ansra Colmer interrupted her swinging only long enough to comply. "Miss Ster, may I inquire if Solar Prane's disability will be affected by standard takeoff velocities?"
"Not when he is cushioned by the shock-mattress."
"And by drugs," added Ansra snidely.
"Solar Prane is not under sedation," the M.A. snapped, trying to rise, and restrained by her harness.