The doctor stared back at her, looked at the list still on the screen. His black skin turned an unhealthy shade of gray. "Low dosage AmB. I'll need a blood sample," he said quietly, taking her hand to a wall unit, and pressing it into the slot. He typed a series of letters in on the keyboard.
Wolfgang's face had set in a hard mask. "He told us . . . the human race was scared of us. Scared of us outbreeding them. So we were made nearly sterile. All the girls had to take these pills every three months . . . to promote successful ovulation. We . . . believed that he was all that was between us and extinction. Mothers used to kiss his feet. I . . . was brought up to believe it was lucky even to have his shadow fall on you. My father was a hero among our people because he served him."
The doctor looked at his hands, not wishing to look them in the face. "I was a registrar in London when he was a houseman. He was a totally self-centered son of a bitch. Thought the sun set when he sat down. Didn't give a cosmic shit for anyone else, least of all his poor blooming patients. But he was handsome, strong, clever . . . and he could talk. Anyway he wasn't going to stay in medicine. He joined the army. I thought it would suit the fathead.
"He came out of the Gersbach clash with the Morkth as a hero. He had to be. He was the only one left alive. The dead bodies weren't going to argue about what he said he'd done. I wondered about it . . . but we were losing the war. We needed a hero. And he looked good in that role. Did well in combat after that, too. It was a shoo-in that he'd command the Morningstar. That's why I chose to be part of the medical team of the backup crew, even if it meant going into the ice box. If it wasn't for the psi saying they'd be screwed if they'd take orders from him, he would have been captain too. But he couldn't have done this to Evie . . . They . . . they were sleeping together."
"I need to go after him," Keilin said coldly.
"Us too," the five Gene-spliced said in a vicious, determined and almost telepathic unison.
One of the hive girls looked into the surgeon's face. "This man . . . you mean he is the same man who betrayed the crew to the Morkth? The Morkth who enslaved us, bred us like animals, to kill our own kind?"
"It looks like it," he muttered. "Stuff the Hippocratic oath. I'm going to strangle the bastard."
Sandi stood up from the waiting-room couch. "You will have to stand at the back of a very long line," she said. The snow outside was warm compared to her voice. "I thank you for giving me something to hit him with," she said holding up her cast.
"We can discuss who gets to kill him later. If we can hear how we get from here to where he is," said Keilin, picking up his assegai.
"There is a passage from the hospital to the main operations center," James Edwards said. "But it is sealed siege-tight. I couldn't even get communication. The only other way is the front gate. Ident procedures should still be operating there. It's going to mean going out for a three-mile traipse across the snow, however. We'll need some outdoor gear."
"We?"
"I'm coming with you of course," he said calmly. "I'll be able to get you through the ident procedures at the main gate, and help with the high-tech side."
Keilin shook his head. "No. You must stay and try to keep Beywulf alive. You must also tell the Gene-spliced the truth, if we do not come back. Cap seemed to think that a psi and the core sections would get him in to the place." He reached into the pouch on his ankle. "I have ten core sections, and I am a psi." He looked at the motley assemblage of humans. "I'd prefer you all to stay. But I suppose there's no chance of that."
Dr. James Edwards looked at the assegai with a professional interest that would have done his distant baKenga ancestors more credit than it did to his present career. "Some of you don't have weapons. The best I can offer you are some portable laser scalpels. I'm going to order the entire unit revived from cryo suspension. Within three hours I promise a thousand people are coming to join you. We're all medical personnel . . . but given the circumstances we can and will fight."
Keilin smiled. "Thank you, sir. I think the Gene-spliced of the Moss have spare weapons we can understand. But clothes would be good."
They were led to a walk-in locker full of cold-weather gear. "Just remember that laser unit in his finger," said the surgeon, as he helped them to find boots and thermoquilted overalls.
"What is it? How does it work?" asked Keilin, shrugging into the overall sleeves.
The surgeon struggled for simple terms. Finally he settled for, "It shoots out a bright beam that will cut through anything. But it will take a long time to recharge. Good luck."