“There seems to have been a definite physical effect. But we’re still learning how time on the tower—especially in what is being called the garden—affects people psychologically.”
“Fair enough,” Rosemary agreed, sliding off the edge of the examination bed. “We need to see more to get to the bottom of this. When you can free me up again, I want to go back to the tower with a more complete laboratory.”
“Certainly,” Milo said, re-emerging from the back room. “But you will need to be patient. For now, I prescribe another 24 hours of rest. Go to the convalescence room and try to get some sleep.”
“Now hang on!” Rosemary protested. “I’ve had a full night’s rest and more than my share of food. I won’t be faffing about while the rest of the crew is pulling double-time.”
The old doctor straightened his back as much as it was possible for him to do so and folded his knotty hands resolutely. “You are not the rest of the crew, Rosemarin. You are my assistant, and I will not have you helping me unless I feel assured of your fitness for it.”
“I’m perfectly fit!” Rosemary exclaimed. She turned appealingly to the captain. “Tell him I’m fit, Francis!”
Carter gestured helplessly. His long face was stoic, but Lamont thought that he detected a glimmer of almost paternal amusement in the captain’s eyes. “Doctor’s orders,” he shrugged.
The young medic glared at Francis, then at Milo. Seeing that her cause was hopeless, she made a frustrated sound and stormed out of the examination area.
“Was she that seriously affected by the tower?” Lamont asked as she swept around the corner.
The doctor leaned against the bed and crossed his arms. He answered in a low voice. “There seems to have been a definite physical effect. But we’re still learning how time on the tower—especially in what is being called the garden—affects people psychologically.”
“Mr. Ashton is a case in point,” Francis agreed. His eyes were still fixed on the doorway through which Rosemary had just disappeared.
“That’s why I came by here, as it happens,” Lamont said. “You said yesterday that I should talk to Milo about him.”
The captain nodded. “Yes, that’s right. You see, even though Mr. Ashton was acting quite normal when we agreed to let him return to the tower, it naturally occurred to us that his behavior could be less than predictable. So…”
Milo, who had begun fishing through the pockets of his coat, finished Carter’s sentence. “So we gave him a little friend.” He produced a small vial, in which was contained what looked to Lamont like a few grains of yellow-green rice. “A subdermal implant that releases a small amount of distinct radiation. Not enough to be very harmful, but enough to be detected by a sensitive enough instrument. We’ve used them quite effectively in the past.”
“For what?” Lamont asked, incredulous.
Sneaky