0188: Taking Sides
“The attendants, who are gatekeepers to the cloud of witnesses, which apparently is synonymous with the choir,” Lamont explained dryly.
“There you are,” Lamont greeted, his voice thinned with fatigue. “You missed quite a spectacle in the medical bay.”
Rosemary Wells wrinkled her button nose. She was hovering beside the asteroid pod while a group of uniformed crew members and jumpsuited colonists negotiated their way up the gangplank in a scene of controlled chaos. A stethoscope hung around her neck and she held her medical bag in one hand. “Oh heavens,” she asked with alarm, “did Milo play sandman on you?” Evidently, the sickly-sweet scent of chloroform still lingered on Lamont’s person.
“Not on me,” Lamont explained with relief. “But you can bet I’ll never turn my back to him again.”
“We’re all a bit ruffled,” The medic offered, wincing.
“You heard that we came back with Clifford, yeah?” Lamont asked.
Rosemary nodded. “Good news, that. Unharmed, presumably?”
“Unharmed, but not unaffected,” Lamont said, tapping the side of his head.
Rosemary’s cherubic features puckered into a frown. “What happened to him, then?”
Lamont spread his hands helplessly before mechanically plucking a cigarette from his jacket pocket. “I’m not convinced he ever left the garden,” he said.
“He must have,” the medic objected. “We searched every inch of that space for him.”
“Every physical inch,” Lamont shrugged, dangling the cigarette from his lips before remembering that to light it would be an unconscionable waste of oxygen and replacing it reluctantly in his pocket. “But to hear him tell it, the locals aren’t corporeally inclined.”
“The locals?” Rosemary asked, her eyes widening.
“The attendants, who are gatekeepers to the cloud of witnesses, which apparently is synonymous with the choir,” Lamont explained dryly.
“God,” Rosemary breathed.
“Don’t get me started on her,” Lamont snapped.
Behind Rosemary, Lazarus poked his head out from the asteroid pod’s ramp. “You probably want to be in here,” he suggested to Lamont. “Nature abhors a vacuum, and I don’t think you’d be big fans either.”
Lamont took as deep a breath as he could under the circumstances and followed Rosemary up the gangplank. Inside the asteroid pod, the crew members and colonists had settled onto opposite sides of the storage bay, just as on the first trip. Lamont shook his head.
“Let’s hope class warfare hasn’t broken out in your absence,” Rosemary remarked, glancing at her wristwatch.
“I’m just a tour guide,” Lamont said, idly checking the recorder box that hung around his neck as he picked his way up front toward the cockpit. “If you lot start skirmishing, the only thing I’ll do is snap photos.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Rosemary laughed. She settled into place behind Rico, who offered her a white-toothed grin from the co-pilot’s chair. “You’re all tied up in knots because you’re afraid she’s in danger.”
“Who?” Lamont asked, glancing up at the medic with a quirked brow as he took his seat.
“You know who,” Rosemary assured him.
“I have no clue what you’re going on about,” Lamont protested flatly, leaning back against the headrest. “Now if you haven’t any objections, I’m going to rest my eyes. There’s two more trips planned today
and I’m already bloody exhausted.”February 6, 1999, in case you’re keeping track. -ETT