contact with a single crew member before approaching a group, and was heading
directly for the survivor on the Control deck.
Cha Thrat steadied the cadaver and took one of its large, strong hands in two of
her upper manipulators. The fingers were short and stubby and tipped with claws
that had been trimmed short, and none of the digits were opposable. In this
species’ prehistory she could imagine those clawed hands conveying freshly
killed food to the mouth that even now was filled with long and very
nasty-looking teeth. It did not, she thought, look like amember of a species
capable of building ships that traveled between the stars.
It did not look, well, civilized. “You can’t always judge by external
appearance,” Murchison said, making Cha Thrat realize that she had been thinking
aloud. “Your Chalder friend from the AUGL ward makes this one look like a
pussy-cat.”
The rest of the medical team were following closely behind the Pathologist:
Naydrad guiding the litter; Prilicla walking the ceiling on its six,
sucker-tipped legs; and, as she watched, Danalta extruded a thicker,
sucker-tipped limb of its own and attached itself to the wall like some
watchful, alien vegetable.
Quickly Murchison attached its instrument pack to the wall with magnetic pads
and used larger magnets and webbing to immobilize the cadaver. It said, “Our
friend here was unlucky, but at least it is helping the others. I can do things
to it which I would not think of doing to a living survivor, and without wasting
time on—”
“Dammit, this is ridiculous*” a voice said in their suit phones, so distorted by
surprise and incredulity that she did not recognize it at first as belonging to
the Captain. Fletcher went on. “We’re on the control deck and we’ve found
another crew member, alive, apparently uninjured, occupying one of five control
positions. The other four positions are empty. But the survivor is wearing
restraints on all four legs and is chained to its controlcouch!”
Cha Thrat turned away and left without speaking. The Captain had told her that
she should follow Chen and itself as soon as the medical team arrived, and she
wanted to do just that before Fletcher had a chance to countermand the earlier
order. Her curiosity about this strange, chained-up ship’s officer was so
intense that it was almost painful.
It was not until she had ascended two decks that she noticed Prilicla silently
following her.
Fletcher was saying “I’ve tried communicating with it, with the translator and
my making the usual friendly signs. Rhabwar’s translation computer is capable of
converting simple messages into any conceivable language that is based on a
system of word-sounds. It growls and barks at me but the sounds don’t translate.
When I approach closely it acts as if it wants to tear my head off. At other
times its body and limb movements are erratic and uncoordinated, although it
seems anxious to be free of its leg restraints.”
Prilicia and Cha Thrat arrived at that moment, and the Captain added, “See for
yourselves.”
The Cinrusskin had taken up a position on the ceiling just inside the entrance,
well away from the crew member’s wildly flailing arms. It said, “Friend
Fletcher, the emotional radiation disturbs me. There are feelings of anger,
fear, hunger, and blind, unthinking antagonism. There is a coarseness and
intensity in these emotions not usually found in beings possessing high
intelligence.”
“I agree, Doctor,” the Captain said, moving back instinctively as one of the
clawless hands stabbed out at its face. “But these couches were designed for
this particular life-form, and the controls, switches, and doorhandles that
we’ve seen so far in the ship are suited to those particular hands. At the
moment it is completely ignoring the controls, and the sudden increase in spin
we noticed during our approach was probably caused by it accidentally striking
the keys concerned.
“Its couch, like the other four, is mounted on runners,” Fletcher went on. “It
has been moved back to the limit of its travel, which makes it very difficult
for the being’s hands to reach the control consoles. Have you any ideas, Senior
Physician, because I haven’t.”
“No, friend Fletcher,” Prilicla said, “but lei us move to a lower deck where it