''Ester, it hasn't quit raining all day.''
''I know. Maybe I'm getting used to it.'' After several more sallies by Kris, just as cheerfully and absurdly parried by Ester, the women left Kris at the base gate. Kris was just in time for the last of the chow, which under Courtney's hand was just as tasty as the first off the griddle. The Colonel came in for a cup of coffee as she settled at a table. He joined her.
''Your quarters have been moved.''
''Sir, don't you think that's taking it a bit far?''
''Blame your friend Lien. He wanted to bunk the Highlanders in a block so their NCOs could keep them out of trouble. He had Millie roust you into new quarters.''
''I thought the Highlanders were delayed.''
''They are, but that boot ensign didn't get the word.'' Or was in cahoots with a certain sly colonel. ''My old quarters empty tonight?''
''And the ones all around it. Made sure the cleaning people knew you were moving, just not where.''
Kris couldn't argue so long as no one else would be on the receiving end of any rockets intended for her. Tommy was at the check-in desk, waiting for her when she got to the quarters. ''Colonel told me what you did. Thanks.''
''I didn't do anything,'' Tom lied through a freckled grin. ''Here's your key. You're on the second floor. Far enough up not to be easy to get at and low enough down not to give anyone in town a clear line of flight.''
So, despite herself, Kris had a good night's sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kris felt like an unregistered voter on election day as she gulped down her breakfast at Oh Dark Early next morning. Boxed rations were handed out to all for lunch, even those not going out, which Kris discovered was less than a dozen, even counting Spens and the three still in sick bay from Kris's first drive in the country. The Colonel was stripping the HQ for the day.
Kris hurried off to the warehouse to resolve any last minute glitches, of which there were few, and to wave good-bye to just about everyone she knew on the planet. Even Courtney had a convoy; Tommy, with local cooks, would see to chow for tonight.
The yard empty, Kris checked in with Jeb. Her lead foreman assured her he and his civilians would get the drop ships hauled out of the bay, their cargos transferred to the warehouses, and shipments made up for tomorrow's deliveries. Kris glanced up into the worst rain she'd seen since landing and told him to keep his crews safe. ''That's what I got the rifle crew for.'' Quaker he might be, but he was not averse to having armed men and women walking the warehouse perimeter.
As Kris headed back to the HQ, she noted that she had a tail, the same two women who had come back with Ester last night. They didn't follow her through the gate, which had one lone Navy guard today, but joined the half-dozen gun-toting civilians walking the HQ's perimeter fence.
Kris checked in at sick bay; Doc and one corpsman had the wounded well in hand. As she wandered the halls of the HQ, Kris heard the echoes of her footsteps; the place was totally closed down. At the end of the hall, radio static drew her attention. The radio section had even been drafted into the food convoys, but their gear still monitored the net. One was on the main net; she could listen to any of the convoys. That only made her feel more left behind. She had Nelly turn that one down and put a watch on alert words like Mayday, fire, and ambush.
The other radio was monitoring civilian channels. With a flick of her wrist, Kris sent it on a scan. It went up the band, hit on a line of static, and hung there. Kris hit Scan again, and it did a long search before hitting on another band of static. Kris settled into the duty chair, put her feet up, and tapped the Scan button at regular intervals as the radio's search hung up on something. It took a couple of minutes before she realized it was hanging on about the same frequency every time. She sat up, hit Scan, and watched as the search went up the band, hit the top, then began at the bottom before settling at the same spot.
She did it again and got the same results.
''Would you like me to isolate the signal from all the noise?'' Nelly asked.
''Is there a signal in that static?''
''Yes.''
''Do it.''
The speakers went silent, then gave out a loud burst of static. ''Sorry,'' Nelly said as it cut off. Then the static came back, low this time. Kris thought she spotted words among the crackling: ''Flu,'' ''flood,'' ''starvation.'' Then again, floods and starvation were the expected around here. Finally Nelly hit on the right algorithm, and the message came in weak but clear:
''You've got to help us. We haven't asked for anything before, but we're at the end of our rope. Can anyone hear us?''
Kris grabbed the radio mike. ''This is Ensign Longknife. You are coming through weak but clear,'' she shouted. ''Repeat your message.'' She keyed off and waited. The static was there. Only static. ''Nelly,'' Kris demanded.
''No signal.''
Kris leaned back in her chair and counted slowly to ten. At ten, she changed her mind and headed for one hundred. If she talked, she'd override an incoming message. As Kris started to despair of ever hearing from them again, the radio came to life. ''Batteries are about dead, but I'm going to keep repeating this as long as I can. This is the Anderson Ranch up the north fork of the South Willie. We've got an outbreak of Grearson fever. Two deaths so far. A dozen or so are showing signs. We burned the bodies to keep this stuff out of the groundwater. We're sick, we're hungry, and now the river's rising. We can't make it up the canyon wall. If you know what's good for you, you better come help us, cause if we die from this stuff and the water takes our bodies, this crud will be all over Olympia.''
''Nelly, what's Grearson fever?''
''Flulike symptoms, it resides in the body like typhoid, causing the carrier no discomfort until their resistance falls below a certain level. It has a fifty percent death rate for adults who are not treated, higher for children and the elderly. First discovered on Grearson—''
''Enough. Does our warehouse have any vaccine against it?''
''Yes. Approximately a thousand units.''
Kris squeezed her eyes closed. A thousand would be a drop in the bucket for Port Athens alone. ''Nelly, show me where the Anderson Ranch is.'' Being the north fork of a south river meant it must be way up in the hills. It was that, and then some.
''Update river information with latest photography.''
Up north, the river grew out of its banks and close to canyon walls. ''This photography is a week old. We have had continuous cloud cover since then,'' Nelly told her. They'd also had continuous rain. If it was bad last week, it was worse now.
Kris was on her feet. At the door she remembered she ought to call this in to the Colonel. But he was headed south, and the problem was up north. She pulled two blank flimsies from a stack next to the radios, scrawled a quick note telling where she was going and why, left one in the radio room and the other on the Colonel's desk as she raced down to sick bay. ''We got a breakout of Grearson fever about forty miles up the river on a place about to be flooded.'' she announced.
The doc had his feet up on his desk, reading a medical journal. ''Oh shit,'' he said, feet slamming to the floor. ''That would be ten times worse than the typhoid last month. There hasn't been an outbreak of Grearson in thirty years.''
''Well, we have one now. Who's coming with me?'' Kris asked.
''Hendrixson still might be bleeding,'' the corpsman said. ''I guess that means I go.'' He started filling a bag.
''If they're coming down with Grearson, Danny, there's going to be all kinds of opportunistic diseases,'' the doc sighed and started adding to the corpsman's load.
''Meet me at the boat dock at the warehouse. I'll pick up the vaccine,'' Kris said as she started double-timing for the exit. ''How many people live in that valley?'' Kris asked Nelly.
''Two hundred thirty-seven.''