Crisis On Doona by Anne McCaffrey, Jody Lynn Nye Page B

stripped off his sodden clothing. When he was safely inside the barrel, Kelly took a shovel and scooped up the stinking remains of the once sporty outfit. She left the knee boots because her brother knew how to neutralize the odor on leather. Spare clothes were donated and a sort of a towel, and pretty soon, Jilamey, smelling considerably more like a Human, was allowed back into the blind.
    Then Kelly could check for wounds. Once the muck had been scraped off, she found several. Nothing major, but scrapes, one shallow cut, and many bruises, the worst of which blossomed on his left cheek and ear. If it hadn’t been for the regulation helmet, he might have crushed his skull on the fence post.
    “I have never had anything like that happen to me in my life,” Jilamey said, over and over, as she dabbed at his injuries with disinfectant and rubbed a styptic to stop the bleeding. “I thought that snake was going to eat me!”
    “You were a very handy morsel,” Kelly replied, carefully smearing vrrela from her medical kit on the scrapes. She reached for one of the flasks at her belt. “But Todd doesn’t allow snakes to feed on his team members. Have a drink of this.”
    Jilamey uncorked the mlada and took a tentative sip. He followed that taste with a more enthusiastic tot and sighed happily as the warmth of the liquor hit.
    “Not too much,” Kelly warned him, taking the flask away and recorking it. “It’s strong.”
    “Strong is what I need right now,” he pleaded. “One more?”
    “Well ...” Kelly studied him and decided what he’d been through was worth one more drink. His bruises would probably hurt more as they developed.
    “All right,” she said, pouring him another.
    “Todd saved my life,” Jilamey remarked thoughtfully. He sat up on the edge of that remark and winced, settling back again in the low chair. “My uncle, the Admiral, has always held a poor opinion of the Reeve family, though he never says why. Even when I asked him after I knew I was going on this Hunt. I shall tell him how wrong he is. If he had seen Todd today, he’d be ever, ever so impressed.”
    “Todd was only doing his duty as team leader,” Kelly said carefully. She was amused as Jilamey had regained his affected manner of speech as soon as he was comfortable again. “But he is quite an impressive person.”
    “I agree!” Jilamey said, both hands clutching the small hammered metal cup. “It was most daring of him to sweep down like that, right in the face of the G — what did you call it?”
    Kelly smiled to herself. Undoubtedly he would regale his friends endlessly about his Snake Hunt. He might even tell the truth. It certainly wouldn’t hurt Todd’s reputation to have the story go around. “GBMS. It stands for Great Big Mommy Snake. Nearly all of the big ones that come out for spawning are the females.”
    “And he drove them both off just before they could reach me. He saved my life. I admire him ever so. I know better than to believe everything my uncle has been saying about his family. He’s wrong when he says that Reeve is out of his element here, and should be returned home for his own good. If the father is at all like the son, well, I’ve never seen anyone better suited to a wild venue.” The young man chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Certainly I’m not. I know I’ll only play at it the odd weekend or two.” He raised his eyebrows entreatingly and extended the cup toward Kelly. She had been listening intently ever since Jilamey had mentioned his uncle.
    “Oh, well, one more won’t hurt you,” she said, pretending reluctance, but eager to hear more. She poured the cup full. “It’s all organic, you know.” Any gossip about the great Landreau interested all Doonans personally. Having just returned from Earth, she was more aware than most of the tensions surrounding the upcoming Treaty Renewal, and the disagreement between the factions pro and con. “So what did your uncle think of you coming here for