Power Play

22

Adak Rourke wanted nothing more than to take his bruised and aching head back to his cabin in Kilcoole and forget about the wider universe and all its problems. He was an amiable man, with simple tastes because he'd never had occasion to have or expect more. He enjoyed the life he had once led, as Kilcoole's expediter, and keeping the snocles working and knowing when spaceships were coming in (which were few enough not to overburden the facilities or himself).

Up until this morning, he'd really enjoyed being Chief Immigration Officer and Official Welcomer but, between getting conked on the head (hard) and now this, he felt inadequate. That didn't set well. Neither did the unanswerable demands of these latest arrivals. In all his born days, he'd never seen anything like this! Though he'd heard both Sinead and Clodagh had had to manage some pretty queer persons lately,

‘You mean, there are no hospital facilities whatever on this planet?' the indignant personage repeated for the umpteenth time.

‘I keep telling you, if someone's sick, they stay home,' Adak replied.

He cast a jaundiced eye at the 'patient' who would have been better off staying at home, too, instead of bringing who-knew-what rare disease to Petaybee.

Right after they'd arrived, a big orange tomcat had sauntered in, sitting down beside the sick man's chair to wash itself. Then it had hopped up on the man's lap, sniffed, lifted its lip in a disgusted way, and hopped down again to saunter out the door. Adak figured it was going to tell Clodagh there was someone sick and smelly here. Personally, he could only hope Clodagh would hurry. He was a little out of his depth, and Clodagh was the healer, after all. Though he was absolutely certain she wasn't what this high and lofty group would expect to tend their patient. Mind you, if he knew Clodagh Senungatuck, and he had all his life, she'd be the very person to heal the man in the remarkable chair.

It floated, dang it, above the floor of the Cube, as he had watched it float above snow and mud and everything else people had to plough through around Space-Base these days. And the 'patient' - a Very Important Personage named Farringer Ball whose helpers seemed to think that even Adak Rourke would know who he was - was hitched up by tubes to the chair.

‘Or,' Adak continued,' they call their local healer if they don't live in Kilcoole, or Clodagh Senungatuck if they do which is what I've done only it'll take her time to get here.’

‘Don't you realize that in medical situations time is of the essence?’

‘Sure, but he ain't bleeding and he is breathing and those're encouraging signs,' Adak said. 'And he's got all of you here to make sure he doesn't bleed and keeps breathing so sit down, please, over there, until Clodagh gets herself here.’

The person in his beautifully tailored, fine travel garment looked at the spartan seating arrangements and the expression on his face when he turned back to Adak was dour and condescending.

‘Surely there is some kind of transit lounge’

‘You're in it,' Adak said, rudely interrupting which was not his normal manner, but he was getting fed up with doing this crazy sort of word dance around the subject as if the name, once spoken, would instantly provide what the speaker truly wanted. In this case, apparently, the most expensive suite in a private hospital, the most successful and omniscient doctors who would provide instant health for the patient. 'I done tol' ya, Intergal pulled everything out, including their infirm'ry when they gave the planet back to itself. At that, us Petaybeans have more than we ever had before,' and Adak gestured proudly around the Cube. It was not only clean and warm but bigger than any four of the biggest cabins in Kilcoole.

‘Now set yourself down and wait,' Adak shuffled the papers in front of him, making a good show of looking for something. Then he picked up the comunit and turned his back on the medic man as if this was a very private call. The guy finally copped on and moved away from the counter.

‘Thavian, didn't you tell him who I am?' wheezed the old man in the chair, pounding the arm-rest with a hand liberally covered with liver spots.

Surreptitiously, Adak shot him a glance. Guy didn't look too good, at that. All sunk in on himself. If he expected Petaybee to bring him back from whatever got him that way, he was asking for a miracle. That was sure. And, as far as Adak had ever heard, you couldn't pay for miracles: they just happened in their own good time. Like the great big mountain that

Petaybee thrust up in the middle of the landing field… and then swallowed back up six weeks ago.

Fortunately, just as Adak himself was getting twitchy, he spotted a trio of cats bouncing through the snow and the bulk of a fur-clad Clodagh lumbering behind them. Looking from her to the immaculately dressed medical folk - even the patient had on fine threads and was bundled in the amazingly coloured pelts that no animal on Petaybee ever grew, Adak was sadly aware of a vast difference in style and appearance between Petaybeans and visitors. Not that those fancy clothes were as warm and as suitable to Petaybee as his and Clodagh's practical, and indigenous, garments. And he almost hated to drop this problem in Clodagh's lap after all the ones she'd had with that Rock Flock which kept growing like some fields will grow rocks no matter how often you clear them off.

‘Slainte, Adak, what's up?' Clodagh asked as she threw open the door and let in a blast of cold air, which smelled refreshingly clean to Adak. He realized then that there was a fusty stink to the air in the Cube, due to the patient, no doubt and all the funny bottles and tubes in his floating chair.

‘I am Doctor Thavian von Clough,' the person said, eyeing Clodagh disdainfully. 'My patient is Secretary General Farringer Ball,' and a graceful hand introduced the patient. 'We were informed by a reliable source that mis planet has unusual therapies to assist my patient back to full health.’

Clodagh squatted down so that her face was on a level with Ball's. 'Slainte, Farringer,' she said softly. 'You looked better on the comscreen. What's wrong?’

Ball wheezed and looked at Clodagh from under lowered eyebrows. 'That's apparently supposed to be for you to find out, young woman.’

He looked startled at Clodagh's laugh which was not only ripplingly young but beautiful.

‘Thanks for the "young" ' she said, patting his hand companionably.’

‘It wasn't intended as a compliment,' Dr von Clough replied stiffly, eyeing Clodagh not only with distaste but patronizingly.

Clodagh shrugged, unconcerned. Before any of the medical team could intervene, she had her fingers on Ball's wrist. She stooped so she could look him squarely in his lined and sad face, and tut-tutted. She pinched a flap of skin on his arm and observed the rate of its relaxation.

‘You're real tired, aren't you?’

‘The Secretary General is suffering from a serious PVS condition

She nodded. 'Real tired.' Straightening and standing she added, 'He should stay here awhile.’

‘That's what Luzon said, though he wouldn't say why,' Ball wheezed.

‘Him?' Clodagh snorted derisively. 'Just goes to show you anybody can do something right once in a while. Don't suppose he meant to. But the joke'll be on him. How'd you all get here? Whit Fiske said the PTS was grounded.’

‘Why, the Secretary General has a private launch for the necessary travel he must’

‘On SpaceBase? Now?’

‘Of course it is.’

‘Good, then you can all stay there and I think I can find space for Mister Ball…’

‘But… but this… individual… said you had no hospital facilities.' Von Clough regarded Adak accusingly.

‘Don't need them. So far, folks have found the whole planet pretty healthy - good food, good air, nobody havin' to take on more'n they can handle. Sick folks can rest when they need to, exercise if they need to. That and a bit of a tonic seems to do the trick. You might say the whole planet's a hospital facility, only it's so good at it, everybody stays pretty well so's you'd never notice,' Clodagh said, speaking slowly as if turning over the words she spoke in her own mind at the same time. 'I never thought about it before, but now that I do, it's true.' She made an expansive gesture which included everything outside the Cube. 'We got everything a human body should need to keep well or cure what's ailing.’

Von Clough's eyes bulged with indignation.

‘Mind you, Farringer, you were a little late comin' but I still think we can help you out.' She eyed the apparatus with as dubious a glance as von Clough had awarded her. 'Right now, of course, as we're getting started, we have to make do with what we've got.' She indicated the Cube. 'We're organizing slow but sure.’

‘So, where can the Secretary General go?’

‘The school at Kilcoole doesn't need all the rooms in their Cube yet,' she said. 'We're kinda short of places to put people since Doctor Luzon', and Clodagh paused to grin, 'has been so good as to send us so many unexpected guests. But we'll find a place for Farringer, since he's so bad off. If you wanted to help, Doctor, the men could use more hands to build more houses, unless you thought you could get some more of these for the new folks,' she indicated the Cube,' specially now we're getting seasonal blizzards…’

‘Seasonal blizzards?' von Clough's eyes bulged from their sockets again as he saw what was slanting past the window area - as thick and earnest a snowfall as the season provided.

Clodagh cocked her head at von Clough, smiling her beautiful smile. 'Since these Cubes are probably more like the environment Farringer's used to, you might ask the Cube-builder to send him one. Meantime, we'll get him started mendin'.' Low mutters of disapproval were exchanged among the lesser minions while von Clough sputtered with renewed outrage.

‘But, we're in attendance on the Secretary…’

‘Now don't fuss,' Clodagh said irrepressibly. 'You can use his space launch to come visit whenever you want.’

Farringer Ball tried to insert a comment here but a bout of coughing required all his attention and the discreet dials on the back of his invalid chair started to dance about.

Clodagh took a bottle from one of her capacious pockets, uncorked it, and then produced a carved wooden spoon. Before his medical advisers could protest, Clodagh had slipped a dose into Ball's mouth. He swallowed in spite of himself. Instantly the cough subsided and weakly Ball waved a hand in gratitude.

‘Is this what Colonel Maddock took?' he asked when he had regained his breath, with something of the air of a schoolboy asking his grandmother about mythical animals.

Clodagh nodded. 'Can't beat it.' Obviously swallowing his pride, von Clough executed the barest of civil bows to Clodagh and held out his hand for the bottle.

‘What, may I ask, are the constituents of this preparation?’

Clodagh shrugged again. 'This 'n' that,' she said vaguely. 'Important thing is, it works pretty fast. Long-term results take more time though.’

Von Clough uncorked the bottle and delicately sniffed, blinking at the aromatics that caressed his nostrils. Then he looked at Ball who was still recovering from the spasm of coughing although his breathing was less ragged with every passing moment.

‘Amazing. Really remarkable.' He passed the bottle to one of the minions.

‘We've been tryin' to tell you,' she said as if talking to a child who'd just burnt himself. 'Petaybee's good for most people. Hardly anybody gets sick ever. If you want health, it only makes sense to go someplace healthy.' Her conviction and clarity in the face of so much pretension and general dogcrap made Adak want to cheer.

‘S'truth, too,’ he said whether anyone cared for his opinion or not.