Beyond Varallan (16 page)

Read Beyond Varallan Online

Authors: S. L. Viehl

Tags: #Cherijo (Fictitious Character), #Women Physicians, #Torin; Cherijo (Fictitious Character), #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Torin, #Life on Other Planets, #General, #Science Fiction; American, #Space Opera, #American, #Speculative Fiction

“He died because he chose to.”

I reared back. “What?”

“Bola refused all aid. He requested only his Speaker.”

“Bola refused—” Confused, I sat down. “The
patient
refused treatment?”

“It was his right.” At my blank look, Tonetka explained. “In our culture the path is predetermined solely by the one who travels it.”

So it was some kind of religious thing. Great. “You’re telling me suicide is okay with you people.”

The Senior Healer nodded. “It is our custom, Cherijo. Should that decision be to embrace eternity, we cannot bar the path.”

Religion was one thing, but this man’s life could have easily been saved. “How could Bola be relied upon to make a rational decision? He was in shock!”

“We do not judge such decisions, Cherijo, we merely respect them.”

“So you respect an injured man’s desire to bleed to death.” I leaned forward. “Tell me, what other charming customs do you have that I don't know about? I already know the one about disemboweling an enemy while they're still alive. Do you ritually sacrifice children to some deity every now and then? Torture someone if they get sick of the color blue?”

“Of course not.” She sounded exasperated. “Cherijo, why are you so angry?”

“Five people are dead, Tonetka. Thirty more injured. All because I’m on this ship. I'm not Jorenian, so don't expect me to sing and dance about it.”

“You belong to HouseClan Torin, Cherijo,” Tonetka said. “You must respect our customs.” Her voice gentled. “You must not hold yourself accountable for this incident, either.”

I’d hold myself accountable for whatever I damn well felt like. But that wasn't the issue. “Your custom violates everything I believe in as a physician. We're trained to provide care and
save
lives. Whatever it takes.”

The Senior Healer frowned. “Your Terran philosophies do not nullify one hundred thousand years of Jorenian tradition.”

We’d just see about that. “Tell me something, Tonetka. When I'm Senior Healer, will I have to respect the wishes of these suicidal patients?”

A flicker of something crossed her face. “You may try to persuade them to embrace life.”

I recalled the long discussions Tonetka once had with Hado Torin before we performed his surgery. How frantic she had been to keep him from dying. Her reaction to Roelm’s death.

“You feel the same way I do,” I said. “You try to talk them out of it, don’t you? That's what you did with Hado.”

“If I can.” She rubbed her eyes. “Sometimes I do not hear their requests. I am traveled, my tympanic nerves are aged.”

I stared at the chart. “Except yesterday.” I looked up and through my pain saw her own. “You didn’t know about Bola until it was too late, did you?” She made an eloquent gesture. “The nurses did this. One of them tried to do the same thing in surgery.”

“Did you prevent her from getting a patient’s Speaker?”

“Prevent her? I practically decked her!”

“Then you will be officially reprimanded by me for violating Jorenian custom. Consider it done.” The Senior Healer rose and indicated the door. “Now go to your quarters and get some rest.”

I left Tonetka’s office, but rest was out of the question. At least until I decided what I was going to do.

I could stay on the ship, but if the mercenaries had found us once, they’d find us again. My presence directly endangered the crew. I could find a non-League planet, get off the ship, and hide there—but my presence would endanger those people.

Any planet will be invaded. Any ship will be targeted. Anyone who helps you will be eliminated.

There was only one choice, after all.

I spotted Ktarka Torin through the viewer of one of the isolation rooms, and went to see what she was doing. On the berth inside the room was a Terran male.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“One of the mercenaries,” Ktarka replied. “He was attempting to board the ship when the
Sunlace
transitioned. They found him on level two, unconscious, with minor injuries.”

He was lucky to be alive. I noted the tough, sinewy body and the shaggy mane of dirty hair. His relaxed features retained harsh, brutal lines of experience. A hunter. One of the many who had been coming after me.

“Has he regained consciousness?”

“No.” Ktarka indicated the locking restraints that held the mercenary pinned to the berth. “When he does, Captain Pnor wishes to interrogate him. Do you know him?”

Jorenians assumed everyone in a species was either related or acquainted with each other, as they were. “No, I don’t.” I picked up his chart and made a note to be informed when he regained consciousness. I wanted to know just how many more ships the League had sent after me. “He looks mean.” I looked at the Jorenian's weary face and touched her shoulder. “So why are you here?”

“My co-workers and I volunteered to assist with the injured,” Ktarka said. “Adaola asked me to monitor this one. The nurses are very busy, and no one wishes…” She made a diplomatic gesture.

Nobody wanted to help those responsible for the deaths of five Torins. I could understand that. I wondered why no one had done the same to me, since I was one of the responsible parties.

A nurse passed by the isolation room. Her angry gaze bounced from the unconscious man’s face to mine. I decided to call her in to relieve Ktarka, but before I could speak, the woman abruptly turned away.

Well, that answered my question, and hurt, more than I cared to admit. “I have to get out of here before the boss chases me out, Ktarka. Thanks for your help.”

From my quarters, I signaled the temporary command level and inquired after the condition of the ship. It wasn’t good. Displacer fire had rendered the upper three levels of the ship unfit for use. Level one was nearly completely destroyed. Half the gyrlifts were nonoperational. We were all going to be walking a lot for the next few days.

In return, I reported the death toll, complete casualty numbers, and details on the patients in serious condition. Every name created new weight on top of the five already crushing my heart. By the time I was done, I knew what I had to do.

“May I to speak to the Captain?” I asked the duty officer, and was told he was unavailable. “Please ask him to signal me as soon as possible.” I recalled the injured Terran. “What are you planning to do about this mercenary we’ve got over in Medical?” The Jorenian only smiled and flexed his hands. “Never mind. I don't want to know.”

Jenner jumped up and snuggled next to me as I curled up on my sleeping platform’s soft pillows. His cool nose nuzzled my hand. I stroked him absently.

“Hey, pal. You hungry? I’ll be…”

I fell asleep instead. My dreams were immediate and ugly. Filled with faceless demons pursuing me wherever I ran, finding me wherever I hid. Their hands snatched at me, tearing my tunic, pulling at my hair. Rough, frightening voices called my name, laughed at me. I ran until I tripped and fell. Then they crowded all around me, their sharp teeth glittering.


No escape, lab meat.” One of the hideous things leaned close. “You’ll never get away. Now get up. Get up
—”

“Get up.”

I opened my eyes. A Terran stared back at me over the edge of a surgical mask. The rim of a pulse rifle barrel sat on the bridge of my nose.

“Get up now.” It was the mercenary Ktarka had been monitoring. Somehow he had gotten into full surgical gear and walked out of Medical. “Slow and easy.”

I moved carefully, sliding off my sleeping platform to stand up. I was only wearing an undershirt and briefs. He pulled off the head gear and mask while he took a long look.

“Well, well, well. You’re going to earn me a tidy little bounty, Dr. Grey Veil.”

There was probably no chance of me taking him off-guard, as I had Squilyp. That rifle he held trained on me never twitched an inch. My display was too far away to reach and signal for help. If I tried to use voice commands, I suspected he’d knock me out.

My shoulders sagged. I could go quietly, I thought, and be done with this.

“Very nice.” He moved closer, reached out and grabbed my breast. I concealed my revulsion with indifference. “Pity I don’t have time now. Maybe when we get back to my ship.”

No. I wasn’t going quietly. Not with this animal. “Don't get your hopes up.”

Brutal fingers squeezed until the pain made me inhale sharply. “That’s right, Doctor. I'm in charge. Remember that.” He let his hand fall away. “Get some clothes on.”

I pulled on the first garments that came to hand. Jenner was nowhere in sight. Had he done something to my cat? I couldn’t ask. If Jenner was hiding, he was safe.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Shut up and get over here.”

I tugged on my footgear and approached him slowly. When I got within a foot, he grabbed my braid and used it to pull me up against him. The pulse rifle pressed against the back of my head. There was Jorenian blood on him; I could smell it. Who had he hurt or killed to get out of Medical?

Ktarka.

“Maybe I do have enough time,” he said, and ground his hips against mine. “The old man doesn’t care what shape you're in. Only that he gets you back on Terra.”

It took every ounce of strength to remain motionless as he jammed his mouth over mine. His thick tongue squirming against my clenched teeth made me want to vomit. He groped my breasts with bruising greed. I kept still and didn’t fight him. He raised his head at last, plainly disappointed.

“Have to work on you,” he said. “You’ve been with these blue-skinned freaks too long.” One calloused hand forced my thighs apart, and he rubbed his fingers back and forth in a grotesque caress. “Forget how it feels to have one of your own kind between your legs?”

Honesty is the best policy. “I’d rather mate with a Hsktskt.”

He backhanded me across the face with his fist, then grabbed the front of my tunic to keep me upright. Blood began to trickle down my chin. My teeth must have cut into my lip when my head snapped back.

I met his gaze, then deliberately spat bloody saliva at his feet. “Two Hsktskts.”

“Come on, you stupid bitch.” He shoved me in front of him. “We’re leaving.” I walked through the door panel and turned to enter the gyrlift, but he yanked me back. That was when I saw Ktarka, huddled against the corridor wall. Blood and lacerations masked her features. Before I could go to her, the barrel of his rifle jammed into my side. “No.” The Terran yanked the educator to her feet. “She can still walk.”

He must have used her as a hostage. “They’ll kill you,” I said.

“Not if it means the two of you die first.”

As we moved down the empty corridor, my heart pounded in my ears. I could only hope no one would cross our path. The crew would react to the threat, and he in turn would shoot them where they stood. Come to think of it, why was the corridor so deserted? With half the gyr-lifts down, we should have been wading through Jorenians.

“How did you get loose?” I asked him.

“I had some help,” the mercenary said, then chuckled.

Who would have helped him? The saboteur? I tried once more to turn back to Ktarka, but his weapon prodded me again. “Did you have to beat her?”

“I should have killed her, but I was in a hurry.”

He was a dead man. “What’s your name?”

“Did I forget to introduce myself?” He chortled again. “Call me Leo.”

“Leo, listen to me. You don’t have a prayer of getting a launch off this ship.”

“I got on it, didn’t I?”

“Let me go. I’ll negotiate for you.”

“Shut up.”

We reached level eighteen. Still no sign of the crew. Leo was openly suspicious as he shoved me through the launch bay entrance. Inside, there were a dozen empty vessels, but not another soul.

“Where are they hiding? In the launches? Behind the cargo bins?” He swung around, eyes frantic, reacting to the echo of his own voice.

“If you leave Ktarka behind, they’ll let you go,” I lied. After the Jorenians found out he'd attacked one of their own, they'd jaunt across the universe to get their claws on him.

“Get in that one.” He pointed to the launch nearest the huge pressure-lock doors, and followed me, dragging a semiconscious Ktarka with him. We were almost to the boarding ramp when Duncan Reever stepped out from behind the thrusters. His empty hands were held open to show he carried no weapon.

“Mercenary.”

Leo targeted Reever at once. “Tell the rest of them to come out!” he said. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face as he shoved me forward with a hard hand. “Get in the launch!”

I looked past Reever and saw a figure behind one of the launches. Another shadow appeared between the launch and the hull. I quickly averted my eyes.

“There is no one else here,” Reever said. “I will escort you from the ship.”

“I don’t need you!” Leo shouted. “Just her!”

“Who will pilot the launch?” Reever asked.

“She will!”

“I don’t know how to fly one of these things,” I said at once. “And Ktarka is in no shape to do it.”

“If you take the helm, she’ll try to incapacitate you,” Reever said. “Leave the injured woman behind. Take me with you. I'll serve as pilot.”

“Get in the launch with them.” He thrust the now-sagging body of the educator at Reever. “No tricks.” He aimed the rifle at my head. “Or I blow her brains into space.”

I reached out to Reever with my mind. Silently, he completed the connection.

Are you crazy
? I demanded.
Get out of here
!

Remember the Dervling
? Reever moved to stand next to me.

You’re going to get us all killed, you idiot
. I let down the barriers that kept Reever from complete access. Felt him draw on the strength of our combined minds. Saw the false image he projected directly into the mercenary’s thoughts.

Leo’s eyes widened. Reever's mental projection made him think the three of us had disappeared into thin air. He hurried right past us and climbed into the vessel.

“Where are you?” With a roar of fury, the mercenary jumped out of the empty launch.

Reever thrust Ktarka’s limp body into my arms. What he did then I could never describe with words. It wasn’t like anything Xonea had ever taught me, either. It was better. Faster.
Scarier
. He whirled in some kind of supple, inhuman roll. His hands moved faster than my eye could follow. There was a brief flicker of light, and Leo’s rifle was in Duncan's hands. The mercenary collapsed, writhing in pain.

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