Ship Who Searched by Anne McCaffrey, Mercedes Lackey
Authors: Anne McCaffrey, Mercedes Lackey
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sky-gods’ wonderful things—hoping that the dearly departed would be reincarnated as sky-gods and return in wealth and triumph. . . .
It wasn’t as much fun though, without Mum and Dad to talk to; and she was getting kind of tired of the way she kept tripping and falling over the uneven ground at the new “site.” She hadn’t damaged her new suit yet, but there were sharp rocks that could rip holes even in the tough suit fabric—and if her suit was torn, there would go the promised Family Day.
So, finally, she gave up on it and spent her afternoons inside.
A few nights later, Pota peeked in her room to see if she was still awake.
“I wanted you to know we were still flesh-and-blood and not holos, pumpkin,” her mum said, sitting down on the side of her bed. “How are your excavations coming?”
Tia shook her head. “I kept tripping on things, and I didn’t want to tear my suit,” she explained. “I think that the Flint People must have put a curse on their grave-site. I don’t think I should dig there anymore.”
Pota chuckled, hugged her, and said, “That could very well be, dear. It never pays to underestimate the power of religion. When the others arrive we’ll research their religion and take the curse off, all right?”
“Okay,” she replied. She wondered for a moment if she should mention her feet—
But Pota kissed her and whisked out the door before she could make up her mind.
Nothing more happened for several days, and she got used to having numb feet. If she was careful to watch where she stepped, and careful never to go barefoot, there really wasn’t anything to worry about. And the AI had said it was something that happened to other children.
Besides, now Mum and Dad were really finding important things. In a quick breakfast-holo, a tired but excited Braddon said that what they were uncovering now might mean a whole lot more than just a promotion. It might mean the establishment of a fieldwide reputation.
Just what that meant, exactly, Tia wasn’t certain—but there was no doubt that it must be important or Braddon wouldn’t have been so excited about it. So she decided that whatever was wrong with her could wait. It wouldn’t be long now, and once Mum and Dad weren’t involved in this day-and-night frenzy of activity, she could explain everything and they would see to it that the medics gave her the right shot or whatever it was that she needed.
The next morning when she woke up, her fingers were tingling.
Tia sighed and took her place inside the medic booth. This was getting very tiresome.
The AI ran her through the standard questions, which she answered as she had before. “So now you have that same tingling in your hands as you did in your feet, is that right?” the “doctor” asked.
“That’s right,” she said shortly.
“The same tingling that went away?” the “doctor” persisted.
“Yes,” she replied. Should I say something about how it doesn’t tingle anymore, about how now it’s numb? But the AI was continuing.
“Tia, I can’t really find anything wrong with you,” it said. “Your circulation is fine, you don’t have a fever, your appetite and weight are fine, you’re sleeping right. But you do seem to have gotten very accident prone lately.” The “doctor” took on a look of concern covering impatience. “Tia, I know that your parents are very busy right now, and they don’t have time to talk to you or play with you. Is that what’s really wrong? Are you angry with your parents for leaving you alone so much? Would you like to talk to a Counselor?”
“No!” she snapped. The idea! The stupid AI actually thought she was making this up to get attention!
“Well, you simply don’t have any other symptoms,” the “doctor” said, none too gently. “This hasn’t got to the point where I’d have to insist that you talk to a Counselor, but really, without anything else to go on, I can’t suggest anything else except that this is a
It wasn’t as much fun though, without Mum and Dad to talk to; and she was getting kind of tired of the way she kept tripping and falling over the uneven ground at the new “site.” She hadn’t damaged her new suit yet, but there were sharp rocks that could rip holes even in the tough suit fabric—and if her suit was torn, there would go the promised Family Day.
So, finally, she gave up on it and spent her afternoons inside.
A few nights later, Pota peeked in her room to see if she was still awake.
“I wanted you to know we were still flesh-and-blood and not holos, pumpkin,” her mum said, sitting down on the side of her bed. “How are your excavations coming?”
Tia shook her head. “I kept tripping on things, and I didn’t want to tear my suit,” she explained. “I think that the Flint People must have put a curse on their grave-site. I don’t think I should dig there anymore.”
Pota chuckled, hugged her, and said, “That could very well be, dear. It never pays to underestimate the power of religion. When the others arrive we’ll research their religion and take the curse off, all right?”
“Okay,” she replied. She wondered for a moment if she should mention her feet—
But Pota kissed her and whisked out the door before she could make up her mind.
Nothing more happened for several days, and she got used to having numb feet. If she was careful to watch where she stepped, and careful never to go barefoot, there really wasn’t anything to worry about. And the AI had said it was something that happened to other children.
Besides, now Mum and Dad were really finding important things. In a quick breakfast-holo, a tired but excited Braddon said that what they were uncovering now might mean a whole lot more than just a promotion. It might mean the establishment of a fieldwide reputation.
Just what that meant, exactly, Tia wasn’t certain—but there was no doubt that it must be important or Braddon wouldn’t have been so excited about it. So she decided that whatever was wrong with her could wait. It wouldn’t be long now, and once Mum and Dad weren’t involved in this day-and-night frenzy of activity, she could explain everything and they would see to it that the medics gave her the right shot or whatever it was that she needed.
The next morning when she woke up, her fingers were tingling.
Tia sighed and took her place inside the medic booth. This was getting very tiresome.
The AI ran her through the standard questions, which she answered as she had before. “So now you have that same tingling in your hands as you did in your feet, is that right?” the “doctor” asked.
“That’s right,” she said shortly.
“The same tingling that went away?” the “doctor” persisted.
“Yes,” she replied. Should I say something about how it doesn’t tingle anymore, about how now it’s numb? But the AI was continuing.
“Tia, I can’t really find anything wrong with you,” it said. “Your circulation is fine, you don’t have a fever, your appetite and weight are fine, you’re sleeping right. But you do seem to have gotten very accident prone lately.” The “doctor” took on a look of concern covering impatience. “Tia, I know that your parents are very busy right now, and they don’t have time to talk to you or play with you. Is that what’s really wrong? Are you angry with your parents for leaving you alone so much? Would you like to talk to a Counselor?”
“No!” she snapped. The idea! The stupid AI actually thought she was making this up to get attention!
“Well, you simply don’t have any other symptoms,” the “doctor” said, none too gently. “This hasn’t got to the point where I’d have to insist that you talk to a Counselor, but really, without anything else to go on, I can’t suggest anything else except that this is a
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