Back | Next
Contents

THE KHAL OF TADZHIKSTAN

1

The residents' association of the complex of which Park View Apartments were part was considering a proposal for a neighborhood restaurant and bar with dance floor, to be added down by the lake. The dance floor could also be used for classes during the day. Of course there were objectors, who believed that such a construction would be a first step toward destroying the rural atmosphere of the area. A countergroup had formed and was collecting signatures of support.

Kieran tossed down his pen as June came over to the breakfast table with the coffee pot to refill their cups, reversed the sheet of paper that he had been writing on, and slid it next to the copy of the petition list that June had left laying out. "What do you think?" he asked. The paper showed his own renderings of the last six names to have been added.

June studied them. Each signature was reproduced flawlessly in its own distinctive style, as if photocopied. "Scary," she pronounced. "Remind me not to leave my checkbook laying around while you're here."

"The secret with forging a name is to do it upside down," Kieran informed her. "That way, the eye interprets it simply as a graphic. You don't see words, and so the letter-writing part of your brain isn't jumping in trying to write them its way."

"Have you ever heard of handwriting being hereditary?" June asked as she sat down. "Mine's practically the same as my mother's, yet we went to school and grew up in totally different places. I've heard other people say the same thing too."

"Hm. I really don't know. . . . Can't think of any obvious reason why it should be."

"Neither can I. That's why I was curious."

"That's something we should have asked Leo. It sounds like his department." Kieran picked up his coffee mug and sat back. He looked at June, his eyes twinkling mirthfully. "Speaking of which, I wonder how much sense they're managing to get out of Sarda-the-First back at the firm." June would be going in to Quantonix that morning. The news from the day before was that the incoherence of the Sarda who had been collected from Balmer's office, and his evident memory loss of practically everything that had happened since the experiment, were causing consternation. Everyone there naturally believed he was the one thought to have been transported through the process successfully, since none other was supposed to exist. It was generally assumed, therefore, that some calamitous flaw was revealing itself, and an air of gloom had settled over the project. Kieran hoped that his anonymous donation to the solvency fund would help make the gloom not quite as deep as it might otherwise have been.

"The last I heard, he was being thoroughly obnoxious and uncooperative," he said. "It's uncanny how different sides of him seem to have polarized into two different individuals. I wonder if—" A tone from Kieran's comset announced an incoming call. He reached across to lift the unit off the breakfast bar and drew out the handpiece.

"Hello. Knightlife Enterprises."

"Er, Dr. Thane?"

"This is he."

"Walter Trevany."

"Ah, Walter! Good morning, indeed!"

"The woman you sent me the picture of: Elaine. I've remembered something else. She was some kind of nurse. It's not a lot, but I said I'd let you know if anything more occurred to me."

"And I appreciate it. But actually, Walter, we've traced her. And a big part was thanks to you. I told you that what you said was more useful than you realized."

"Oh—I'm glad to hear it. So how is Leo now? Has his memory improved at all?"

"Well, a lot of people are currently working to help him in that direction," Kieran said truthfully. "Elaine was even more helpful than I'd hoped. We'll see what happens. So how is the expedition to Tharsis shaping up? You must be getting close to leaving."

A sigh came over the phone. "Oh . . . there's a mechanical problem with the Juggernaut. We're—"

"Juggernaut?"

"That's what we've christened the mobile lab. We're having trouble getting a part. Something always gets you at the last minute. I'm new here. Do you happen to know any good places to try?"

"Do you have Alazahad Machine on your list?"

"Yes, but I haven't tried that one yet. Are they good?"

"It's the place I rented the car from when I came out to see you. Mahom Alazahad, the owner, is an old friend of mine. He's also a magician. If anyone in Lowell has your part, it'll be him. Otherwise he'll conjure you one out of thin air."

"Thanks for the tip. We'll give it a shot."

"Mention my name. And good luck."

Kieran expected Trevany to clear down, but a short pause followed. Then Trevany said, "There was something else I wanted to ask. Our expedition's medic has had to drop out. His main work is in biological research. He thought he'd have some spare time, but it turned out that some work he's involved with in Lowell is at a crucial point. What kind of doctor are you? I wondered if it was something you'd be able to help out with at short notice. We could offer pretty good remuneration . . . if you were interested."

Kieran smiled. "It's nice of you to think of me. But to be frank, my calling to the curative arts is not of the physicians' kind. I suppose it would be better described as remedying wrongs that ought to be put right." June caught his eye with a questioning look.

"Oh . . . okay," Trevany said. "Maybe this Elaine might know someone, if she's a nurse."

"Possibly," Kieran said. "But I'm afraid she left Mars yesterday. She's going to be gone for a long time. But I know other people too, Walter. Let me ask around. If I come up with someone who might be able to take it on, I'll have them get in touch."

"Well, if it wouldn't be a lot of trouble . . ."

"Not at all. It's my turn to do the favor. Leave it to me."

"Thanks a lot. I'll be hoping to hear from someone then."

"Bye for now, Walter."

"So what was that about?" June asked after Kieran had cleared down. "I presume the `Walter' was Walter Trevany."

"Yes. He had another detail about Elaine that he'd remembered. Also, they're having trouble finding a part to fix something on the Juggernaut—that's what they've called their mobile lab."

"Hm. I kind of like it."

"Anyway, I put him on to Mahom."

"So what was the bit about curative arts and physicians?" June asked. "I take it he still thinks you're a doctor."

Kieran explained the situation. "I'll try calling Donna for a start. She might be able to put me on to some ships' doctors who are laying over between trips right now. A jaunt out across the surface might be appealing. It sounds as if they could find themselves involved in some quite interesting things, too."

June looked at him thoughtfully while he drank from his cup and then began folding the paper with the forged signatures into an origami form. "Then why don't you?" she said finally.

"What?"

June leaned forward to the table, intent on making her point. "Perhaps you ought to disappear for a while. I'm probably going to be tied up for some time in whatever repercussions develop at Quantonix. But more importantly, it's very likely that there are people still here in Lowell who might recognize you—with very awkward consequences. Making yourself scarce might be a good idea." The movements of Kieran's hands slowed as he considered what she was saying. He looked up. There was, of course, one small detail that she couldn't have overlooked: he wasn't a doctor. As if reading his mind, she went on, "Didn't you have some training in that line when you were with the military? If what Walter needs is someone on hand for accidents, emergencies and that kind of thing, you might be able to fit the bill as a kind of corpsman. And backup is never far away these days. I think you should think about it."

Kieran sat back, rubbing his chin. The look on his face already said there was nothing to argue or disagree with. It also said he was becoming more taken with the thought by the moment. "I'd probably have to leave Guinness with you," he said at last. "Walter was a bit stodgy about having dogs around when I was out there. In any case, Guinness would have to be shut up inside all the time if he went. . . . I wonder if they'll ever make dog suits."

"That's not a problem. Patti and Grace could have him some of the time. They'd love it."

Kieran let the proposition shuffle through his head one last time. Then he picked up his comset again, drew out the handpiece, and called Trevany's number. "Walter," he said when Trevany answered. "Kieran Thane again. Look, I've been thinking more about this problem of yours. There's a chance I might be able to help after all. What kind of thing are you looking for, exactly? . . ."

 

Back | Next
Contents
Framed