Plague Ship, Andre Norton [e books free to read txt] 📗

Van Rycke passed along the corridor on his way to the hydro, Sinbad at his heels. But in a moment the cat was back, leaping up on Dane’s knee. He did not curl up, but rubbed against the young man’s arm, finally reaching up with a paw to touch Dane’s chin, uttering one of the soundless mews which were his bid for attention.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Dane fondled the cat’s ears. “You haven’t got a headache⁠—have you?” In that second a wild surmise came into his mind. Sinbad had been planet-side on Sargol as much as he could, and on ship board he was equally at home in all their cabins⁠—could he be the carrier of the disease?

A good idea⁠—only if it were true, then logically the second victim should have been Van, or Dane⁠—whereas Sinbad lingered most of the time in their cabins⁠—not Kosti. The cat, as far as he knew, had never shown any particular fondness for the jetman and certainly did not sleep in Karl’s quarters. No⁠—that point did not fit. But he would mention it to Tau⁠—no use overlooking anything⁠—no matter how wild.

It was the sequence of victims which puzzled them all. As far as Tau had been able to discover Mura and Kosti had nothing much in common except that they were crewmates on the same spacer. They did not bunk in the same section, their fields of labor were totally different, they had no special food or drink tastes in common, they were not even of the same race. Frank Mura was one of the few descendants of a mysterious (or now-mysterious) people who had had their home on a series of islands in one of Terra’s seas, islands which almost a hundred years before had been swallowed up in a series of world-rending quakes⁠—Japan was the ancient name of that nation. While Karl Kosti had come from the once thickly populated land masses half the planet away which had borne the geographical name of “Europe.” No, all the way along the two victims had only very general meeting points⁠—they both shipped on the Solar Queen and they were both of Terran birth.

Tau stirred and sat up, blinking bemusedly at Dane, then pushed back his wiry black hair and assumed a measure of alertness. Dane dropped the now-purring cat in the Medic’s lap and in a few sentences outlined his suspicion. Tau’s hands closed about Sinbad.

“There’s a chance in that⁠—” He looked a little less beat and he drank thirstily from the mug Dane gave him for the second time. Then he hurried out with Sinbad under one arm⁠—bound for his lab.

Dane slicked up the galley, trying to put things away as neatly as Mura kept them. He didn’t have much faith in the Sinbad lead, but in this case everything must be checked out.

When the Medic did not appear during the rest of the ship’s day Dane was not greatly concerned. But he was alerted to trouble when Ali came in with an inquiry and a complaint.

“Seen anything of Craig?”

“He’s in the lab,” Dane answered.

“He didn’t answer my knock,” Ali protested. “And Weeks says he hasn’t been in to see Karl all day⁠—”

That did catch Dane’s attention. Had his half hunch been right? Was Tau on the trail of a discovery which had kept him chained to the lab? But it wasn’t like the Medic not to look in on his patients.

“You’re sure he isn’t in the lab?”

“I told you that he didn’t answer my knock. I didn’t open the panel⁠—” But now Ali was already in the corridor heading back the way he had come, with Dane on his heels, an unwelcome explanation for that silence in both their minds. And their fears were reinforced by what they heard as they approached the panel⁠—a low moan wrung out of unbearable pain. Dane thrust the sliding door open.

Tau had slipped from his stool to the floor. His hands were at his head which rolled from side to side as if he were trying to quiet some agony. Dane stripped down the Medic’s undertunic. There was no need to make a careful examination, in the hollow of Craig Tau’s throat was the telltale red blotch.

“Sinbad!” Dane glanced about the cabin. “Did Sinbad get out past you?” he demanded of the puzzled Ali.

“No⁠—I haven’t seen him all day⁠—”

Yet the cat was nowhere in the tiny cabin and it had no concealed hiding place. To make doubly sure Dane secured the panel before they carried Tau to his bunk. The Medic had blacked out again, passed into the lethargic second stage of the malady. At least he was out of the pain which appeared to be the worst symptom of the disease.

“It must be Sinbad!” Dane said as he made his report directly to Captain Jellico. “And yet⁠—”

“Yes, he’s been staying in Van’s cabin,” the Captain mused. “And you’ve handled him, he slept on your bunk. Yet you and Van are all right. I don’t understand that. Anyway⁠—to be on the safe side⁠—we’d better find and isolate him before⁠—”

He didn’t have to underline any words for the grim-faced men who listened. With Tau⁠—their one hope of fighting the disease gone⁠—they had a black future facing them.

They did not have to search for Sinbad. Dane coming down to his own section found the cat crouched before the panel of Van Rycke’s cabin, his eyes glued to the thin crack of the door. Dane scooped him up and took him to the small cargo space intended for the safeguarding of choice items of commerce. To his vast surprise Sinbad began fighting wildly as he opened the hatch, kicking and then slashing with ready claws. The cat seemed to go mad and Dane had all he could do to shut him in. When he snapped the panel he heard Sinbad launch himself against the barrier as if to batter his way out. Dane, blood welling in several deep scratches, went