THE RETURN

antibodies. My life maintains her own. Without me she dies.'

The cabin held traces of her presence; silks and rich brocades, a cabinet which held gowns, a box which held a profusion of jewels. Things which held the ghostly scent of expensive perfume as did the air, the books and covers, the papers scattered on the bunk.

Dumarest watched as Chagal probed among them. 'Is it true?'

'According to what's here,yes.'The physician straightened a computer print-out in his hand. This is a report from the Sung-Hagen laboratories on Kruge. It deals with tissue matching and is a copy of one I found in his cabin. He appears to have spoken the truth.'

'Appears?'

'Anything can be fed into a computer. What he claims is possible, but hard to prove without tests. I can't run them. I haven't the equipment or the skill. But why should he lie? What would be the point? What could he hope to gain?'

Questions to add to others. Dumarest moved about the cabin, touching, imagining the woman who had occupied it. One warm with vibrant life instead of lying wrapped in the chill of simulated death.

'What would happen to her if Yemm died?'

'She would follow him. The synapses govern the electrical impulses which pass along nerves. Block or distort them and you get paralysis, disorganized muscular responses, failure of the brain to receive and relay vital information. Death would be inevitable and not pretty to watch.'

'Why Yemm? Why not drugs?'

'Her condition may not respond to synthetics. It is safe to assume they have been tried and failed. Fresh cells given at regular intervals from someone like Yemm could be her only hope.' Chagal added, 'Think of it as a blood transfusion. A living donor would ensure a continuous supply.'

Neat, logical, all of a piece as was everything else about the Evoy. Too neat. Too logical. Like a puzzle which had been constructed to carry a specific message, to bear an unmistakable pattern. Somehow it didn't ring true. The vessel had known madness, death, violence, murder, sacrifice and suicide. There had been starvation and the horror of thirst. Yet everything was clean, neat, the air sweet with the hint of perfume. Even so there was nothing tangible he could regard as proof as his suspicions. Everything could be explained by madness, habit or blind, unthinking obedience. A discipline which had tried to find security in the continuing of unessential tasks.

Dumarest returned to the hold where the caskets were housed. Yemm, dressed now in dark fabrics, stood at the head of one holding the woman as if at his station or on guard. His face was impassive.

Zehava turned as Dumarest closed the distance between them. She too had been looking at the woman in the casket.

'Well?'

'There are valuables in the cabins. Collect them and have them ready for transfer.'

'What about the woman?'

'She can wait.'

'With respect, commander, I must disagree.' Yemm laid a hand on the transparent lid. 'Even though the metabolism of the Lady Lucia has been slowed the deterioration of her nervous system is progressing. Unless she receives treatment she will wake an imbecile. She might not even wake at all.'

'Chagal?'

'He could be right.' The physician scowled as he studied the figure in the casket. 'It would be a damned shame to ruin a body like that. Resurrect her and I'll supervise the transfer of tissue. Yemm will advise me on the correct procedure. He has all the equipment needed in his cabin. Do it,' he urged. 'What have you to lose?'

Nothing or perhaps too much. Dumarest looked down at the woman in her frozen sleep, feeling the turmoil of conflicting emotions. Of caution against the urge of old associations. To arouse her could be to wake a demon better left asleep, but to allow her to die could bring eternal regret.

'Do it,' whispered Zehava. 'Earl, you must!'

To press the right controls and to wait, watching, counting as the seconds slipped by. Living again in memory the experience of resurrection. To rise through layers of ebon chill as the eddy currents warmed flesh and bone and interior organs. Sensing the injected drugs which guarded against the agony of returning circulation. Knowing when the electric stimulator ceased and allowed the heart to beat under its own power. The resuscitator yielding to allow the natural function of the lungs. To wake as if reborn, hearing the pneumatic hiss as the casket opened, rearing upright, glowing with the euphoria of resurrection.

Within minutes he could hold Kalin in his arms and know again the wonderful ecstasy of her love.

But later – for now it was best she stayed as she was.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapman said, impatiently, 'Earl, if there's a chance of salvaging that ship we've got to take it. Do you realize how much it's worth?' He looked at the Evoy where it showed on the screen; an astronomical chance of easy wealth made concrete. 'There's more. Yemm has made me a proposition. It makes a lot of sense. Zehava backs him.'

'On what?'

'Yemm claims that if we return the Lady Lucia to the Tyrant he'll reward us with an amount equal to half the salvage value. He'll also buy the vessel if we want to sell. Either way we make a fortune. But he insists she's to be released from the casket. I can't understand why you haven't done it already. Neither can anyone else. If she dies we lose the reward.'

A disturbing possibility to a greedy man and one no raider would tolerate. Dumarest turned from the screen which dominated the bridge. They were alone in the compartment, the panels facing the big chair winking with intermittent dots of light as instruments monitored their position.

'It's only been a few hours,' said Dumarest. 'We had other things to do. Does Mauger think he can repair the generator?'

'He's confident he can do it in about two days. Basically it's a matter of cleaning and re-adjusting. No vital component was destroyed. It's mostly flare-damage probably caused when a conduit cracked and flashed to another. It could have been metal-fatigue caused by distortion induced by the warp. The surge must have blown the fuses.'

'And killed the captain and engineer.'

'That's right.'

'It's what Yemm said happened. What was written in the log.' Dumarest looked again at the drifting vessel, imagining what was said to have happened, trying to picture the events, uneasily aware of the caution which rasped at his nerves. 'Don't you think it odd that they were together at that spot at that time? And why wasn't an attempt made to repair the damage?'

'You just gave the reason. The captain and engineer were dead. The navigator was killed by the duenna. It makes sense, Earl. What would a rich bitch and a walking laboratory know about repairing a generator?'

'The navigator wasn't killed right away,' reminded Dumarest. 'The food and water would have lasted for some time. Why didn't he try to repair the generator while he had the chance? Did Mauger report that any work had been done on it at all?'

'No,' admitted Chapman. 'But that doesn't mean anything. Not all navigators have engineering skills. Maybe he was killed early in order to conserve the food and water. When it ran out the duenna put the others into the caskets. It's not important. Once we repair the ship we'll have it made. The salvage and an extra bonus for returning the girl.'

'Big money promised but that's all you have as yet. A promise. From someone you know nothing about. We only have his word for who and what he claims to be. How can you trust him?'

'I can't reject the offer. Yemm swears the money will be handed over. In any case the Tyrant won't get the girl until we get the reward.'

'You're forgetting the warp,' said Dumarest. 'And the suspected stasis which could have lasted for decades. The Tyrant could be dead by now. His son, too. Whoever now rules may not want the girl. You've a long way to go before you could make radio contact. The journey could be wasted.'

'Someone will want her.'