“Arly, I’ll need the names of those on duty, the likeliest to have access.” She had already keyed in Adis and Veron, and their personnel records were up on her left-hand screen. Nothing obvious - but she’d already been over all the records looking for something obvious. “And, when you’ve time, a complete report on alternate access methods: if an exterior device was used, what would it look like, and so on.” Sassinak turned to Major Currald. “I know you consider that cargo lift your fault, but in ordinary circumstances, who would have locked it off?”
“Oh… Sergeant Pardy, most likely. He had troop deck watch, and when the galley’s secured, he usually does it. But I’d snagged him to supervise the mounting of those barrage mirrors, because Carston was already working on the artillery. That would have left… let’s see… Corporal Turner, but she went with the boarding party, because we needed to send two people with extra medical training. I really think, captain, that it was a simple accident, and my responsibility. I didn’t stop to realize that Pardy’s usual team had been split, when the boarding party left, and that left no one particular assigned to it.”
Sassinak nodded. From what he said, she thought herself that it was most likely an accident - almost a fatal one, but not intentional. And even if it had been - even if one of the marines now dead had told another to do it, in all that confusion she would find no proof.
“What I’m planning to do now,” she told them all, “is sit here quietly until the fuss clears, then do our repairs as best we can, and then continue our quiet surveillance until something else happens. If the slavers decide to evacuate that base, I’d like to know where they go. Even if they don’t leave, we can log traffic in and out of the system. Huron’s taking that transport to the nearest station - a minimum of several weeks. If something happens to him, our beacon is… mmm… telling the world just where theZaid-Dayan was. It’ll be years before anyone picks it up, probably, but they will. If we see something interesting enough to tail, we will; otherwise, we’ll wait to see if Huron brings a flotilla in after us.”
“Won’t he think we’re destroyed?” asked Arly.
“He might. Then again, he might think of the trick we used - we both read about a similar trick used in water-world navies, long ago. Either way, though, he knows the base is here, and I’m sure he’ll report it.” Sassinak paused, her throat dry. “Anyone for coffee? Food?” Several of them nodded. Nav and Helm rose to serve it. Sassinak took two of her favorite pastries, and sipped from her full mug. Her nose wrinkled involuntarily. Coffee wasn’t her favorite drink, but this had a strange undertaste. Major Currald, who’d taken a big gulp of his, grimaced.
“Somebody didn’t scrub the pot,” he said. He took another swallow, frowning. The others sniffed theirs, and put them down. Nav sipped, and shook his head. Helm shrugged, and went to fill the water pitcher at the corner sink.
Sassinak had taken a bite of pastry to cover the unpleasant taste when Currald gagged, and turned an unlovely shade of bluish gray. His eyes rolled up under slack lids. Hollister, beside him, quickly rolled him out of the seat onto the floor, where the commander sprawled heavily, his breathing harsh and uneven. “Heart attack,” he said. “Probably the stress today - “ But as he reached for the emergency kit stowed along the wall, Sassinak felt an odd numbness spread across her own tongue, and saw the frightened expression of those who had taken a sip of coffee.
“Poison,” she managed to say. Her tongue felt huge in her mouth, clumsy. “Don’t drink - “ Her vision blurred, and her stomach roiled. Suddenly she doubled up, helplessly spewing out the little she’d had. So was Bures, and now Currald, apparently unconscious, vomited copiously, gagging on it. Someone was up, calling for Med on the intercom. Someone’s arm reached into her line of sight, wiping up the mess, and then her face. She nodded, acknowledging the help but still not able to speak.
When she looked again, Hollister was trying to keep the commander’s airway open, and Bures was still hunched over, wild-eyed and miserable. She expected she herself didn’t look much better. A last violent cramp seized her and bent her around clenched arms. Then it eased. Her vision was clearer: she could see that Arly was trying to open the door for Med, and realized that it was still on voice-only lock. She cleared her throat, and managed an audible command. The door slid aside. While the med team went to work, she put the room ventilation on high to get rid of the terrible stench, and rinsed her mouth with water from the little sink. This was not what she’d had in mind when she’d insisted on running a water line into this office, but it was certainly handy. The med team had Currald tubed and on oxygen before they spoke to her, and then they wanted her to come straight back to sickbay.
“Not now.” She was able to speak clearly now, though she suspected the poison was still affecting her. “I’m fine now - “
“Captain, with all due respect, if it’s a multiple poison there may be delayed effects.”
“I know that. But later. You can take Bures, keep an eye on him. Now listen: we think it’s the coffee, in here - “ She pointed to the pot. “I don’t want panic, and I don’t want the whole ship knowing that someone tried to poison the officers: clear?”
“Clear, captain, but - “
“But you have to find out. I know that. If we’re the only victims, that’s one thing, but you’ll want to protect the others - I recommend the sudden discovery that those invaders may have put something in the galley up here, and you need to see if they contaminated the galley on Troop Deck.”
“Right away, captain.”
“Lieutenant Gelory will help you.” Gelory, a Weft, smiled quietly; she was the assistant quartermaster, so this was a logical choice.
The movement of a litter with an unconscious Major Currald aboard couldn’t be concealed. Sassinak quickly elaborated her cover story about the invaders having somehow contaminated the galley for the officers’ mess. The bridge crew were angry and worried - so was she - but she had to leave them briefly to get out of her stinking uniform. Her face in the mirror seemed almost ten years older, but after another shower her color had come back, and she felt almost normal - just hungry.
Bures and the others who had sipped the coffee were also better, and had taken the opportunity to get into clean uniforms. That was good: if they cared about appearance, they were going to be fine. She settled into her seat and thought about it. Poisoning, an open cargo lift through the cordons, and a missile launch…? Three times enemy action: that was the old rule, and a lot better than most old rules. But it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like the same kind of enemy. If someone wanted the ship to reveal itself to the slavers - and that was the only reason for a missile launch - what was the poison supposed to do? If they all died of it, retching their guts out on the decks, the whole crew together wouldn’t make enough noise to be noticed. So the subversive could take over the ship? No one person could: a cruiser was too complicated for any one individual to launch. Was it pique because the earlier sabotage hadn’t done its work? Then why not put poison in something where it couldn’t be tasted? The poison was, in fact, a stupid person’s plot - she leaned forward to put Medical on a private line and picked up her headset.
“Yes?”
“Yes, poison in the coffee: a very dangerous alkaloid. Yes, more cases, although so far only one is dead.” Dr. Mayerd’s usually business-like tone had an extra bite in it.
Dead. Tears stung her eyes. Bad enough to lose them in combat, bad enough to have her ship blown open… but for someone in the crew to poison fellow crew! “Go on,” she said.