Strontium-90 Read Online Free PDF

officer said, “what’s wrong with you?”
    The headache slowed its drumming rhythm. Blake managed to swallow a dry lump down his throat. “My head hurts,” he whispered.
    The political officer’s eyes bored into Blake’s. “You were born in Montana, North America, correct?”
    Blake nodded.
    “Your parents died in the eighty-six space strike?”
    “I think so.”
    “Your loyalty rating is ninety-eight point three percent?”
    “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of that before.”
    The political officer flicked away the stub of his stimstick and pulled another from his crumpled pack. “But I have.”
    Blake didn’t understand, not the man or his methods. He only truly understood computers and their programs.
    “Perhaps it was a suicide,” the doctor said tonelessly.
    The political officer slid his gaze from Blake to the doctor.
    “The chance is slim, granted,” said the doctor. “This is the third death in two years—all from accidental causes.”
    The political officer inhaled his stimstick to life. After several seconds, he said, “Someone must make the decision.”
    “What about you?” asked the doctor.
    “Impossible, of course,” the political officer said. “If only you and I were left you would decide. In his wisdom, Chairman Feng has forbidden the Pak Dow from making command decisions.” He smiled wryly. “It would sully our purity.”
    The doctor blinked his pink eyes, saying nothing.
    The political officer thoughtfully sucked on his stimstick.
    Blake felt compelled to ask, “Political Officer, who will make the decision?”
    “Are you really that dense?”
    “I monitor the computers,” said Blake. “I fix them when they malfunction. Command matters... .” Blake shrugged.
    The political officer’s hand trembled as he shook out a third stimstick, lighting it with the second. He glared at the hand, willing it to stop. The hand refused. He finally grunted something unintelligible and stuck the third stimstick between his lips.
    “You should not smoke so much,” the doctor said.
    The political officer nodded absently as he studied Blake. “You act as if you’re scrubbed.”
    The doctor immediately reset his handscanner and passed it by Blake’s head again. It clicked as before. “...It’s possible,” the doctor said, “but I consider it unlikely.”
    “Why?” asked the political officer.
    “Mind-scrubbed humans cannot function in a technological environment.”
    “They can if memory implants are put into them.”
    The doctor raised almost nonexistent eyebrows.
    “It’s been done before,” the political officer said.
    “I didn’t know it was possible.”
    The political officer made a slight gesture before he turned back to Blake.
    “May I go, Political Officer?” asked Blake.
    “May I go, he says.”
    “Perhaps he doesn’t know,” the doctor said.
    “Is that true, CS1 Blake? Don’t you know?”
    Blake’s headache was gone. “Know what?” he asked.
    The political officer laughed harshly. “You’ve been scrubbed, all right. There’s no curiosity or social awareness in you. Wouldn’t you agreed, Doctor?”
    “It’s possible.” The doctor stared at Blake. “He’s... different.”
    Yes, different,” said the political officer. “Yet he’s still our new Captain.”
    Blake blinked rapidly, in confusion.
    “Computer Specialist, First Rank is higher on the organization al chart than Ship’s Doctor.” The political officer sucked hard on his stimstick. “You will follow me to the Captain’s Deck and make the decision. Is that understood?”
    Blake nodded.
    The political officer flicked away his third stub, and with an expert twist, he unlatched his shoes from the carpet.
     

2.
     
    For the first time, CS1 Blake stood in the Captain’s Deck. There were three acceleration couches with their computer keyboards in the armrests. Otherwise, the room was bare.
    “Yours is the middle couch,” said the political officer.
    Blake propelled himself toward it,