As soon as Point mentioned poison, Greater Than released his harness. The big black case fell off his back and he opened it up like a cabinet. He rummaged rapidly, running his hands down labeled compartments.
“Upper right corner,” Point snapped.
He touched the stud on that compartment and it popped open to reveal a pack made of composite and fabric. He held it and touched the clasp that unrolled it into a bandolier of smaller packets. He paused. “Which anti…”
“Neuro first,” Point said calmly, straining to hold the much smaller female as she heaved and screamed.
Hesitation gone, Greater Than pulled out a small cylinder with inverted conical top. He stepped over to the distraught doe, squatted and grabbed a handful of mane, immobilizing her head. Then upended the cylinder and sprayed it all over her lower face. A smell of polymers cut the air and Stroke stiffened so rigidly I thought she was going to snap in half. She fell silent in mid-scream, and stared wildly around the circle of concerned faces and keening kits. Her eyes fluttered. She gave Point a weak, horrendous smile and leaned forward, placed her nose in the purple/black fur of his belly and inhaled deeply. He released her wrists and stroked her gently behind her ears. Her eyes fluttered again and she passed out.
Point and Greater Than gave each other a look, Point shaking his head in relief. Greater Than put his arms behind his back in disgust, glared down at Stroke a moment, snorted in his whiskers, and turned away.
Then leaped to the black case and swung a hard backhand blow at a smallish male with the dull brown coat and cocoa tufts of a Tech. His hand hit the shoulder of the Tech, a banded artisan I’m calling “At” (though more properly “@”) knocking him a body’s length away, against some rocks.
Our little troop, still stunned from Stroke’s outburst, jittered noisily as At hit the rocks and crumpled to the ground unconscious. Greater Than slammed the black case shut and spun around, furious. “ Nobody but me touches the CatPak!” he bellowed. “Why do you think I’ve been carrying the damned thing instead of making you carry it?”
Equal, who had gone to At and was stroking his temples to try to bring him around, looked up angrily. “You should have said, so, you stupid brute. What the hell is it, anyway? That’s more important that us?”
I was startled that anybody would address a Trinchan like that, even after the confrontations in the morning. Perhaps to defuse any reaction from Greater Than, Point spoke loudly. “It’s a Stage One kit. All ships carry them in case of catastrophe. It has life-saving supplies inside. He’s right. Nobody should fiddle around with it.”
“You don’t trust us, then?” Equal said, obviously in no conciliatory mood. I remembered that he and At had been very friendly on board. Two skilled workers with their hands, schooled artists feeling isolated among the other passengers.
Greater Than scoffed noisily. “Of course I don’t trust you. I’m your warder, you idiot. If you could be trusted you wouldn’t be here.”
He glanced around the woods balefully. “And neither would I.”
At opened his eyes and moved, whimpering. Equal stood and faced Greater Than. But looked at Point. “If it’s part of the ship, shouldn’t the pilot be in charge of it? “
Point just shrugged and turned back to Stroke.
Greater Than raised on hand in a gesture we’d learned meant we’d better pay close attention. “Any one of you that interferes with the contents of that kit will lose a hand.”
Losing a hand would be tragic for any being lucky enough to have hands, but for us it’s even worse, which I promise I’ll explain once I get these events sorted out a little. There was muttering about it and Equal sneered, “A little harsh, don’t you think?”
“Standard,” he answered. “It’s in the manual. Keep your hands off and you keep your hands on.”
He turned and moved back to where still Stroke lay in a merciful chemical coma. He didn’t seem any less angry. He seldom does.
“You all think I just like to be mean to your tender little feelings? Look at this one. Look at her! She poisoned herself, didn’t she? After I told her not to eat any of this green excrement.” He slashed a hand at a leafy branch, shearing off a shower of leaves.
“She’ll be okay for now,” Point said, carefully gentle. “It would be good to find out what she ate so we’ll know to avoid it.”
Greater Than rode his fury down, pointed at me. “Find out what she ate. Anybody see her eat anything?”
Nobody was going to volunteer information, but it didn’t take long for Ampersand and I to backtrack slightly and find leaves with toothprint edges. And little more searching to locate the plant they’d come from, handsome, dark green specimens overgrowing the mouth of a shoulder-high gully a little ways off our line of march.
I could understand why it would have looked more tempting to a hungry young doe than the other plants in the area. It was a deep luscious green, sheened with a slight oil covering. The leaves were triple, very reminiscent of the Grove crest that we see on important buildings and documents every day. The three dark lobes of Attention, Deeds and Concord. It looked trustworthy and authoritative. But was actually treacherous, a virulent poison. I could write an allegorical ode on that, I thought.
I carefully gathered up one of the triple leaflets in a different species of leaf and carried it back to where the group waited, separate factions clumped around At and Stroke. I walked into the middle of the group and held the leaves up, then laid them carefully down on a rock. “Look at this,” Greater Than roared. “Avoid it. And don’t eat anything unless I say so!”
I went over to Stroke, a limp, wet, black streak on the green moss. We have no physician, I suddenly realized. They sent us off with nobody to keep us alive and well. I looked around and realized I’d just seen what passed for our medical team in action: an ignorant brutish fighter, a withdrawn naval pilot and, I was shocked to suddenly understand, an aged scholar. I squatted by Stroke and examined her mouth closely. “She didn’t have time to digest anything,” I told the bystanders. “Or even chew. I would say that the oil on the leaves is an antagonist. Or allergen. It’s inflamed all tissue naked of fur. We should be thankful it didn’t get into her lungs.”
“How soon can she walk?” Great Than demanded brusquely.
Point turned to give him a long look, said, “What do you think?”
“Then we’ll carry her.” He spun aggressively and jabbed his big hands out at two Ascension males. “You two. Pick her up and carry her. Now.”
At got to his feet, favoring a leg that was already swelling. He took two careful steps then started to limp along, waving off help from Equal and Dollar, who followed him downstream shooting hateful glances back at Greater Than.
Lesser Than and Underscore gently picked Stroke up, limp and scrawny as a piece of rope. They tried to hold her, then Underscore took a deep breath and slung her over his shoulders, wrapping her around his neck with her arms and legs dangling in front of him and her tail swinging behind. As he passed Greater Than he shot some killing looks of his own. I watched him strugglie to climb a rock. He was powerfully built and dynamic, but more used to lunatic ministering than physical exertion. I wondered how long he’d hold out.
The sun was still high in the trees, we had barely started our trek and we were already nursing wounded.