The glow of the Elbereth Moss provided steady light. Within the Ship, if nothing was placed in the way, the combined light from the ceiling, bulkheads and floor could be almost as bright as daylight. But it was rare to have a room with nothing in the way of the Moss. Usually there was furniture, great quantities of equipment hanging on the bulkheads, and hatches in various bulkheads and decks.
The surgery was a walk-in closet, just off the lower quarterdeck cabin, where the glow of Lady Elbereth’s Gift flowed freely. Nothing was hung on the bulkheads. There was no furniture except a table and no hatches except for one small door. Outside this small door was the hospital, where many of the wounded were stacked up in stretchers.
Many of them were sitting up in their pallets to peer into the surgery. A large bloody bundle sat outside the door and Doc Etzen, the day watch corpsman, stood outside the door. A strong stench of decaying flesh was in the air.
The captain ducked into the surgery. As he bent over to go in it became clear that the putrid smell was from the bundle sitting outside the door, and from inside as well. The strange, constant, downward “wind” of two-space drove their sails. It also pulled a draft down through vents in every room, then exited the Ship from vents just above the sea. Even with this constant flow of air, the smell was almost overwhelming. Gagging slightly at the stench, he found Petreckski, Lady Elphinstone, and her assistant, Mrs. Vodi, gathered around the operating table, the latter two with their usual small cloud of cats at their feet.
The Sylvan was wearing her traditional buttercup yellow dress with grass green sash. Her long blond hair was braided behind her. Her hands were covered with blood and ichor, but her garments were spotless.
Vodi was in a dowdy black shift, her gray hair up in a bun. She was gummy as a baby, with a face like a large, self-satisfied, golden raisin. She kept a large chaw of tobacco in her cheek and a spit cup in her bloody hand. As he watched, she spat a stream of juice into the cup. “Psssuttt.”
“Sir!” said Petreckski. His pale blue eyes were shining with excitement in his heavyset face. His thin, straw colored hair was in disarray, and he had a smear of blood on his cheek. Smears of blood and ichor could be detected on his brown robe. “Look at this.”
On the table before them, spread out on a piece of sailcloth, was the dissected body of one of the little spider monkeys, spread-eagled on the table. If eight legs, a tail and a head splayed out and sliced open in every direction could qualify for that term. On Petreckski’s shoulder sat his monkey, alive and well, peering down at the body without any apparent distress or concern over the process. Indeed, the little monkey seemed as intent and interested as its master. Melville looked over at his monkey, which was craning its neck to look at the operating table, apparently sharing the interest, as Petreckski continued. “I saved the corpse of an ape and several spider monkeys from Broadax’s World, and we just finished dissecting them.”
It occurred to Melville to be concerned that precious space on their cutters must have been tied up with such items during the boarding process. But collecting cargo and knowledge was the purser’s job. That was his contribution to Westerness and Melville trusted him to know what constituted valuable cargo. In the old days of sailing ships the purser wasn’t often a popular officer, since he was notorious for stealing from the ship. In those days “purser’s tricks” was a term for any kind of swindle with food or supplies. But today, in the Westerness Navy, the purser was a highly respected professional who helped make sure that the Ships turned a profit as they traveled. A profit that was shared by all the warrior-traders onboard the Ship.
“This little fellow is one of the ones that fell from the trees while they were fighting the apes,” Petreckski went on, pointing to the bloody remains. “He really didn’t have too much damage, just some internal trauma and broken bones. Of course, he and his bigger playmate out there have gotten a little ripe.”
Melville found himself fighting a wave of nausea at the sight and smell in the confined area. The purser went on, oblivious to his captain’s discomfort. “We could have put them on a line and hung them down into space. But the freezing and vacuum would have done even more damage, and then we’d be working with a frozen body, so this is really best.”
“I assume,” Melville asked, “that the reeking bundle outside the door is this little fellow’s larger cousin?”
“Well, yes and no,” Petreckski replied. “That is the bundle containing the ape, but he isn’t even remotely a relative of this little monkey,” gesturing at the bloody mass on the table. “Perhaps Lady Elphinstone can explain it best, since this is really her area of expertise.”
Nodding at the purser, the Sylvan healer took up the account. Beside her, her lob-lolly girl, Mrs. Vodi, spat some tobacco juice into her spit cup, “psssuttt,” causing Melville’s stomach to heave again.
Elphinstone was “still waters” that ran very deep, but even she was reflecting a little of Petreckski’s excitement. “Captain, I need to begin by telling thee that the large apes are very crude, simple creatures. To put it plainly, they are very unevolved. The one we dissected was clearly male, but cursory inspections of their bodies after the battle also identified many females.”
She went on, her fingers flashing a probe and a scalpel to demonstrate her points. “The spider monkeys, inside, are as different as night is from day. They have the same three-fingered paws as the apes, but one of their fingers is capable of wrapping around and acting as an opposable thumb. Thou canst also see that these little ones have a very highly refined neural system. And look, thou canst tell that their brain is quite well developed.” Melville could tell no such thing, but was content to take her word on it. “Everything about them is evolved, or developed to the very highest degree. But here is the most remarkable thing. They have absolutely no sexual or reproductive capability.”
“So,” said Melville, since something seemed to be expected of him at this point, “the spider monkeys are the dominant species of the world, while the apes are some distant, unevolved branch.”
“Captain,” Petreckski interjected, shaking his head thoughtfully, “these two creatures are as different from each other as a squid is from you and me. Different number of limbs, different reproductive process, different nervous system, and totally different levels of development. They look similar, but they couldn’t possibly be any more different. That’s why it’s so very strange that they look so much alike!”
Melville looked at him blankly. Elphinstone went on, trying to make it clear. “Think of it as though two civilizations set out to build an automobile. One is crude, industrial age technology, making a Model-T Ford. The other is the highest technology thou canst think of, making a state-of-the-art land vehicle. Inside, nothing is the same, so why bother to make it look like a Model-T?”
The excitement and enthusiasm in these two was mildly infectious. Melville found himself beginning to share their interest. Then they gave him the one bit of information that was truly electrifying. “But,” Elphinstone continued, her blue eyes sparkling with relish, “if they have no reproductive capability, and they don’t, then how dost thou explain the two baby monkeys that arrived last night?”
“Babies?” Melville asked.
“Two that we know of,” said Petreckski. “Both are with the wounded. Hakeem and Ivanov both report waking up with a little bundle of fur nestled beside them. They say they thought it was a puppy, or kitten at first, but when they found out it was a monkey, just like yours, they were delighted.”
“Well, let us take a look at these ‘babies,’ ” said Melville, delighted to have an excuse to leave the malodorous surgery. He didn’t think he could last another few minutes without embarrassing himself. To add to his discomfort, Mrs. Vodi spat a squirt of tobacco juice into her cup again. “Psssuttt.”
The young captain looked at her and must have appeared particularly green.
“Yes, Captain,” said the ancient lob-lolly girl. “I know it’s a nasty habit. I tried to kick it. ‘Get Thee behind me, Satan!’ I said, and a scant minute later I heard a deep voice say, ‘Nice Ass.’ Oh, well, Take ’em where you can get ’em. That’s my motto.”
” . . .” Blink. Gulp. Blink. Melville looked at her ample bottom and gulped again. Mrs. Vodi didn’t just derail his train of thought. She ripped up the rails and tied them in knots over roaring fires made of the railroad ties, burning the station and the bridge for good measure on the way out. ” . . . Um. Yes. Well, let us see these ‘babies,’ shall we?”