Darkover Landfall by Marion Zimmer Bradley

“Rafe, they want us all at a Medical meeting if you have nothing else to do. They’re trying to analyze what happened to us.”

“Do you honestly think it will do any good, Ewen? We’ve all been talking it over–”

Ewen shrugged. “Mine is not to reason why,” he said. “You’re not under the authority of the Medic staff, of course, but still–”

MacAran asked, “Were they very rough on you about Zabal’s death?”

“Not really. Both Heather and Judy testified that we were all out of contact. But they want your report, and everything you can tell them about Camilla.”

MacAran shrugged and went along with him.

The Medic meeting was held at one end of the hospital tent, half empty now–the more seriously injured had died, the less so had been restored to duty. There were four qualified doctors, half a dozen nurses, and a few assorted scientific personnel to listen to the reports they made.

After listening to all of them in turn, the Chief Medical Officer, a dignified white-haired man named Di Asturien, said slowly, “It sounds like some form of airborne infection. Possibly a virus.”

“But nothing like that turned up in our air samples,” MacLeod argued, “and the effect was more like that of a drug..

“An airborne drug? It seems unlikely,” Di Asturien said, “although the aphrodisiac effect seems to have been considerable also. Do I correctly assume that there was some sexual stimulation effect on all of you?”

Ewen said, “I already mentioned that, sir. It seemed to affect all three of us–Miss Stuart, Dr. MacLeod and myself. It had no such effect on Dr. Zabal to my knowledge, but he was in a moribund condition.”

“Mr. MacAran?”

He felt for some strange reason embarrassed, but before Di Asturien’s cool clinical eyes he said, “Yes, sir. You can check this with Lieutenant Del Rey if you like.”

“Hm. I understand, Dr. Ross, that you and Miss Stuart are currently paired in any case, so perhaps we can discount that. But Mr. MacAran, you and the Lieutenant–”

“I’m interested in her,” he said steadily, “but as far as I know she’s completely indifferent to me. Even hostile. Except under the influence of-of whatever happened to us.” He faced it, then. Camilla had not turned to him as a woman to a man she cared for. She had simply been affected by the virus, or drug, or whatever strange thing had sent them all mad. What to him had been love, to her had been madness–and now she resented it.

To his immense relief the Medic Chief did not pursue the subject. “Doctor Lovat?”

Judy did not look up. She said quietly, “I can’t say. I can’t remember. What I think I remember may very well be entirely delusion.”

Di Asturien said, “I wish you would co–operate with us, Dr. Lovat ”

“I’d rather not” Judy went on fingering something in her lap, and no persuasion could force her to say any more.

Di Asturien said, “In about a week, then, we’ll have to test all three of you for possible pregnancy.”

“How can that be necessary?” Heather asked. “I, at least, am taking regular anti shots. I’m not sure about Camilla, but I suspect crew regulations require it for anyone between twenty and forty-five.”

Di Asturien looked disturbed. `”That’s true,” he said, “but there is something very peculiar which we discovered in a Medic meeting yesterday. Tell them, Nurse Raimondi.”

Margaret Raimondi said, “I’m in charge of keeping records and issuing contraceptive and sanitary supplies for all women of menstrual age, both crew and passengers. You all know the drill; every two weeks, at the time of menstruation and halfway between, every woman reports for either a single shot of hormone or, in some cases, a patch strip to send small doses of hormones into the blood, which suppress ovulation. There are a total of one hundred and nineteen women surviving in the right age bracket, which means, with an average arbitrary cycle of thirty days, approximately four women would be reporting every day, either for menstrual supplies or for the appropriate shot or patch which is given four days after onset of menstruation. It’s been ten days since the crash, which means about one-third of the women should have reported to me for one reason or the other. Say forty.”

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