lmb.shardsofhonor-第49部分

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。　〃A　slow　spin　is　all　right。　Seemly。　But　that　fast　spinning　you　get　sometimes…it　must　be　very　unrestful　for　them；　don't　you　think？〃
　His　attention　was　pulled　from　the　thing　in　the　screen；　and　he　stared　at　her。　〃They're　dead；　lady！〃
　She　smiled　slowly　as　the　corpse；　bloated　from　depression；　limbs　twisted　as　though　frozen　in　a　strobe…flash　of　convulsion；　was　drawn　gently　toward　the　cargo　bay。　〃Well　that's　not　their　fault；　is　it？…one　of　our　fellows；　I　see　by　the　uniform。〃
　〃Bleh！〃　he　repeated　himself；　then　gave　vent　to　an　embarrassed　laugh。　〃You　act　like　you　enjoy　it。〃
　〃Enjoy？　No。。。　But　I've　been　in　Personnel　Retrieval　and　Identification　for　nine　years；　now。　I　don't　mind。　And　of　course；　vacuum　work　is　always　a　little　nicer　than　planetary　work。〃
　〃Nicer？　With　that　godawful　depression？〃
　〃Yes；　but　there　are　the　temperature　effects　to　consider。　No　deposition。〃
　He　took　a　breath；　and　let　it　out　carefully。　〃I　see。　I　guess　you　would　get…pretty　hardened；　after　a　while。　Is　it　true　you　guys　call　them　corpse…sicles？〃
　〃Some　do；〃　she　admitted。　〃I　don't。〃
　She　maneuvered　the　twisted　thing　carefully　through　the　cargo　bay　doors　and　keyed　them　shut。　〃Temperature　set　for　a　slow　thaw　and　he'll　be　ready　to　handle　in　a　few　hours；〃　she　murmured。
　〃What　do　you　call　them？〃　he　asked　as　she　rose。
　〃People。〃
　She　awarded　his　bewilderment　a　small　smile；　like　a　salute；　and　withdrew　to　the　temporary　mortuary　set　up　next　to　the　cargo　bay。
　On　his　next　scheduled　break　he　went　down　himself；　drawn　by　morbid　curiosity。　He　poked　his　nose　around　the　doorframe。　She　was　seated　at　her　desk。　The　table　in　the　center　of　the　room　was　yet　unoccupied。
　〃Uh…hello。〃
　She　looked　up　with　her　quick　smile。　〃Hello；　Pilot　Officer。　e　on　in。〃
　〃Uh；　thank　you。　You　know；　you　don't　really　have　to　be　so　formal。　Call　me　Falco；　if　you　want；〃　he　said；　entering。
　〃Certainly；　if　you　wish。　My　first　name　is　Tersa。〃
　〃Oh；　yeah？　I　have　a　cousin　named　Tersa。〃
　〃It's　a　popular　name。　There　were　always　at　least　three　in　my　classes　at　school。〃　She　rose；　and　checked　a　gauge　by　the　door　to　the　cargo　bay。　〃He　should　be　just　about　ready　to　take　care　of；　now。　Pulled　to　shore；　so　to　speak。〃
　Ferrell　sniffed；　and　cleared　his　throat；　wondering　whether　to　stay　or　excuse　himself。　〃Grotesque　sort　of　fishing。〃　Excuse　myself；　I　think。
　She　picked　up　the　control　lead　to　the　float　pallet；　and　trailed　it　after　her　into　the　cargo　bay。　There　were　some　thumping　noises；　and　she　returned；　the　pallet　drifting　behind　her。　The　corpse　was　in　the　dark　blue　of　a　deck　officer；　and　covered　thickly　with　frost；　which　flaked　and　dripped　upon　the　floor　as　the　medtech　slid　it　onto　the　examining　table。　Ferrell　shivered　with　disgust。
　Definitely　excuse　myself。　But　he　lingered；　leaning　against　the　doorframe　at　a　safe　distance。
　She　pulled　an　instrument；　trailing　its　lead　to　the　puters；　from　the　crowded　rack　above　the　table。　It　was　the　size　of　a　pencil；　and　emitted　a　thin　blue　beam　of　light　when　aligned　with　the　corpses　eyes。
　〃Retinal　identification；〃　Tersa　explained。　She　pulled　down　a　pad…like　object；　similarly　connected；　and　pressed　it　to　each　of　the　monstrosity's　hands。　〃And　fingerprints；〃　she　went　on。　〃I　always　do　both；　and　cross…match。　The　eyes　can　get　awfully　distorted。　Errors　in　identification　can　be　brutal　for　the　families。　Hm。　Hm。〃　She　checked　her　readout　screen。　〃Lieutenant　Marco　Deleo。　Age　twenty…nine。　Well；　Lieutenant；〃　she　went　on　chattily；　〃let's　see　what　I　can　do　for　you。〃
　She　applied　an　instrument　to　its　joints；　which　loosened　them；　and　began　removing　its　clothes。
　〃Do　you　often　talk　to…them？〃　inquired　Ferrell；　unnerved。
　〃Always。　It's　a　courtesy；　you　see。　Some　of　the　things　I　have　to　do　for　them　are　rather　undignified；　but　they　can　still　be　done　with　courtesy。〃
　Ferrell　shook　his　head。　〃I　think　it's　obscene；　myself。〃
　〃Obscene？〃
　〃All　this　horsing　around　with　dead　bodies。　All　the　trouble　and　expense　we　go　to　collecting　them。　I　mean；　what　do　they　care？　Fifty　or　a　hundred　kilos　of　rotting　meat。　It'd　be　cleaner　to　leave　them　in　space。〃
　She　shrugged；　unoffended；　undiverted　from　her　task。　She　folded　the　clothes　and　inventoried　the　pockets；　laying　out　their　contents　in　a　row。
　〃I　rather　like　going　through　the　pockets；〃　she　remarked。　〃It　reminds　me　of　when　I　was　a　little　girl；　visiting　in　someone　else's　home。　When　I　went　upstairs　by　myself；　to　go　to　the　bathroom　or　whatever；　it　was　always　a　kind　of　pleasure　to　peek　into　the　other　rooms；　and　see　what　kind　of　things　they　had；　and　how　they　kept　them。　If　they　were　very　neat；　I　was　always　very　impressed…I've　never　been　able　to　keep　my　own　things　neat。　If　it　was　a　mess；　I　felt　I'd　found　a　secret　kindred　spirit。　A　person's　things　can　be　a　kind　of　exterior　morphology　of　their　mind…like　a　snail's　shell；　or　something。　I　like　to　imagine　what　land　of　person　they　were；　from　what's　in　the　pockets。　Neat；　or　messy。　Very　regulation；　or　full　of　personal　things。。。　Take　Lieutenant　Deleo；　here。　He　must　have　been　very　conscientious。　Everything　regulation；　except　this　little　vid　disc　from　home。　From　his　wife；　I'd　imagine。　I　think　he　must　have　been　a　very　nice　person　to　know。〃
　She　placed　the　collection　of　objects　carefully　into　its　labeled　bag。
　〃Aren't　you　going　to　listen　to　it？〃　asked　Ferrell。
　〃Oh；　no。　That　would　be　prying。〃
　He　barked　a　laugh。　〃I　fail　to　see　the　distinction。〃
　〃Ah。〃　She　pleted　the　medical　examination；　readied　the　plastic　body　bag；　and　began　to　wash　the　corpse。　When　she　worked　her　way　down　to　the　careful　cleaning　around　the　genital　area；　necessary　because　of　sphincter　relaxation；　Ferrell　fled　at　last。
　That　woman　is　nuts；　he　thought。　I　wonder　if　it's　the　cause　of　her　choice　of　work；　or　the　effect？
　It　was　another　full　day　before　they　hooked　their　next　fish。　Ferrell　had　a　dream；　during　his　sleep　cycle；　about　being　on　a　deep…sea　boat；　and　hauling　up　nets　full　of　corpses　to　be　dumped；　wet　and　shining　as　though　with　iridescent　scales；　in　a　huge　pile　in　the　hold。　He　awoke　from　it　sweating；　but　with　very　cold　feet。　It　was　with　profound　relief　that　he　returned　to　the　pilot's　station；　and　slid　into　the　skin　of　his　ship。　The　ship　was　clean；　mechanical　and　pure；　immortal　as　a　god；　one　could　forget　one　had　ever　owned　a　sphincter　muscle。
　〃Odd　trajectory；〃　he　remarked；　as　the　medtech　again　took　her　place　at　the　tractor　controls。
　〃Yes。。。　Oh；　I　see。　He's　a　Barrayaran。　He's　a　long　way　from　home。〃
　〃Oh；　bleh。　Throw　him　back。〃
　〃Oh；　no。　We　have　identification　files　for　all　their　missing。　Part　of　the　peace　settlement；　you　know；　along　with　prisoner　exchange。〃
　〃Considering　what　they　did　to　our　people　as　prisoners；　I　don't　think　we　owe　them　a　thing。〃
　She　shrugged。
　The　Barrayaran　officer　had　been　a　tall；　broad…shouldered　man；　a　mander　by　the　rank　on　his　collar　tabs。　The　medtech　treated　him　with　the　same　care　she　had　expended　on　Lieutenant　Deleo；　and　more。　She　went　to　considerable　trouble　to　smooth　and　straighten　him；　and　massage　the　mottled　face　back　into　some　semblance　of　manhood　with　her　fingertips；　a　process　Ferrell　watched　with　a　rising　gorge。
　〃I　wish　his　lips　wouldn't　curl　back　quite　so　much；〃　she　remarked；　while　at　this　task。　〃Gives　him　what　I　imagine　to　be　an　uncharacteristically　snarly　look。　I　think　he　must　have　been　rather　handsome。〃
　One　of　the　objects　in　his　pockets　was　a　little　locket。　It　held　a　tiny　glass　bubble　filled　with　a　clear　liquid。　The　inside　of　its　gold　cover　was　densely　engraved　with　the　elaborate　curlicues　of　the　Barrayaran　alphabet。
　〃What　is　it？〃　asked　Ferrell　curiously。
　She　held　it　pensively　to　the　light。　〃It's　a　sort　of　charm；　or　memento。　I've　learned　a　lot　about　the　Barrayarans　in　the　last　three　months。　Turn　ten　of　them　upside　down　and　you'll　find　some　kind　of　good　luck　charm　or　amulet　or　medallion　or　something　in　the　pockets　of　nine　of　them。　The　high…ranking　officers　are　just　as　bad　as　the　enlisted　people。〃
　〃Silly　superstition。〃
　〃I'm　not　sure　if　it's　superstition　or　just　custom。　We　treated　an　injured　prisoner　once…he　claimed　it　was　just　custom。　People　gave　them　to　the　soldiers　as　presents；　and　that　nobody　really　believes　in　them。　But　when　we　took　his　away　from　him；　when　we　were　undressing　him　for　surgery；　he　tried　to　fight　us　for　it。　It　took　three　of　us　to　hold　him　down　for　the　anesthetic。　I　thought　it　a　rather　remarkable　performance　for　a　man　whose　legs　had　been　blown　away。　He　wept。。。　Of　course；　he　was　in　shock。〃
　Ferrell　dangled　the　locket　on　the　end　of　its　short　chain；　intrigued　in　spite　of　himself。　It　hung　with　a　panion　piece；　a　curl　of　hair　embedded　in　a　plastic　pendant。
　〃Some　sort　of　holy　water；　is　it？〃　he　inquired。
　〃Almost。　It's　a　very　mon　design。　It's　called　a　mother's　tears　charm。　Let　me　see　if　I　can　make　out…he's　had　it　a　while；　it　seems。　From　the　inscription…I　think　that　says　'ensign；'　and　the　date…it　must　have　been　given　him　on　the　occasion　of　his　mission。〃
　〃It's　not　really　his　mother's　tears；　is　it？〃
　〃Oh；　yes。　That's　what's　supposed　to　make　it　work；　as　a　protection。〃
　〃Doesn't　seem　to　be　very　effective。〃
　〃No；　well。。。　no。〃
　Ferrell　snorted　ironically。　〃I　hate　those　guys…but　I　do　guess　I　feel　sort　of　sorry　for　his　mother。〃
　Boni　retrieved　the　chain　and　its　pendants；　holding　the　curl　in　plastic　to　the　light　and　reading　its　inscription。　〃N