I remember the coordinates of all the camps … as if it were yesterday …” Varian caught Lunzie’s eyes and laughed. Lunzie’s gaze was cynical. “Well, the last thing the heavyworlders would be expecting is a raid by one of us.”
“Do the bastards good to get shaken out of their sagging skins,” the physician said. “If any of the original ones are still alive.”
“A bit daunting to think they might all be safely in their graves, or whatever they do,” said Triv,
“and us alive and kicking.”
“You get used to it,” Lunzie said sourly.
“What?” asked Varian. “The kicking or still being alive when everyone else you know has long since been dead?” With those words Varian faced that possibility for the first time since she had awakened.
“Both,” was Lunzie’s cryptic reply.
“I’ll have a go at fixing the sled first light tomorrow.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Triv said.
“Then you,” and Lunzie pointed at Triv, “can take first watch with Kai tonight.” She was wringing out another cloth to place on Kai’s forehead. “I’m tired.”
Varian gave the physician a searching look. Yes, Lunzie was tired, of many things. Tired, resigned, but not defeated.
“Wake me for the next watch, Triv.” Varian hauled the thermal blanket over her shoulders and was asleep almost before she could pillow her head on her arm.
Varian woke Lunzie at first light when Kai’s temperature began to rise.
31
Anne McCaffrey – Dinosaur Planet II – The Survivors
“That’s the way of fevers,” Lunzie told her, checking her patient. “Some of the punctures are completely closed. That’s good.” Lunzie offered Kai juice which he thirstily gulped. “That’s good, too.”
Varian went over to Triv and was about to wake him when Lunzie intervened.
“Can you manage without him? He needs more rest than he’ll let on.”
“I’ll call if I need help, then.” Varian equipped herself with Portegin’s few tools and shinnied up the vine to the cliff top.
First she had to empty the sled of the rainwater that had accumulated even in the brief time the canopy had been opened. That gave her a chance to examine the under-carriage. Although there were a few scratches from Kai’s rough landing, there were no fracture lines on the ceramic. As she righted the sled, she noticed several small feathers. She picked them up, smoothed them and held them out to the fresh drawn breeze to dry. They couldn’t be from giffs, which were furred, and, once dry enough to show color, they were a greenish blue. The downy portion fluffed while the top of the quills remained rigid, too thick with oil to have suffered damage from their immersion.
Carefully putting them in a breast pocket, Varian turned to the business at hand.
She switched on the power, and the blinking lights reappeared. The fault might be just in the console panel, Varian thought, for despite her confident claim to Lunzie, she wasn’t a trained mechanic. If the sled’s malfunction involved circuit or matrix adjustments, she would be unable to cope. Then they would have to wake Portegin. But the units were built to withstand a good deal of rough usage as well as long periods of idleness, stored in the Exploratory Vessel, so they had been designed to survive under just the circumstances that then prevailed.
Fortunately the wind was blowing over her right shoulder as she broke the console seal. She had also lifted the panel upward so her face was shielded. Otherwise the mold that had penetrated and thrived in the console interior would have covered her face. Instinctively she had held her breath and ducked away at her first sight of the purple mass. She lowered the console cover only far enough to watch the wind blow away the top layers.
Using one collar flap as an improvised mask, she tilted the sled into the wind, letting it dislodge additional layers until, at last, the outlines of the matrix panels were visible though covered with a soft purple fuzz. Even the color looked dangerous to her.
Then she took heart because, if the mold had seeped through the console seals, it could also cause minute circuit breakage. If she could remove the remaining stuff … Varian laid aside the panel but kept the collar flap across her mouth and nose as she bent to examine the slotted matrices. She delicately ran one of Portegin’s tools along the edge of the matrix frame, the fuzz gathering on the shaft of the instrument, leaving the frame edge clean. She flicked the mess off the blade and cleaned the next portion. When she had cleared the accessible portions of the panel, she shook out Portegin’s kit to find something that could reach into crannies and corners. If she left any of that mold inside, it would undoubtedly proliferate again. She needed a long-handled, fine-bristled brush which was patently not among Portegin’s effects.