“Don’t bother,” I called back. “Someone obviously thinks I deserve this.”
An hour later, I was notified by the inpatient nurse that Alun Karas had descended into a coma. I left Trauma for the ward at a flat run. Time blurred from there as I tried everything I could think of, but the progression of his pneumonic infection, as well as the coma, proved irreversible.
Six hours after my initial treatment, I found myself reporting Alun Karas’s death to Dr. Mayer. I recited the stark facts, and terminated the signal after the chief issued orders for a full autopsy. Once I’d notified Dr. Crhm in Pathology and requested MedAdmin inform the next of kin, I left the FreeClinic and drove my glidecar home.
I sat behind the controls outside housing for some time before I summoned the energy to drag myself to my quarters. There, for the first time since I’d arrived on planet, I wept.
Unemotional, irritating Duncan Reever quickly added another item to my list of his shortcomings.
He was punctual.
The following morning, my door chime rang precisely at the time I’d specified.
“Wait a minute.”
Grumbling, I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on a faded tunic and trousers. On the way to the door panel, I dialed up my morning tea.
“Be charming,” I told Jenner as I opened the door. He yawned back at me. “Come in, Reever. I’m almost ready.”
The chief linguist walked in. He was similarly clothed in shabby, comfortable garb. As I drank my tea, he examined Jenner with remote interest.
“A domesticated animal?” he asked, but made no effort to touch my cat.
“Uh-huh.” I drained my server.
His Majesty, on the other hand, took an incongruous, instant liking to Reever. He padded over and curled around one of the chief linguist’s ankles. Plaintive yowls for attention began to increase in volume.
“What does it want?”
“His name is Jenner,” I said. “He wants you to pet him.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you ever-“ I recalled his unusual upbringing. “That’s why they’re called pets, Reever. You pet them.” I quickly wound a band around the end of my braid. “Most alien cultures have domesticated animals, don’t they?”
“No. However, there are several species who consume such small mammals as their primary dietary-“
I shuddered. “Never mind. Forget I asked.” I reached down and gave Jenner an affectionate stroking.
My cat glared at me - I don’t want you - and continued to implore Reever for attention. The chief linguist just stood there, imitating a tree. I gave up and straightened with a sigh. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Reever’s glidecar waited outside my building. I noted it was a sleek, handsome model much newer than any other I’d seen on K-2.
“Who did you bribe to get this?” I asked as I slid into the luxurious interior.
“No one. It was a gift.”
“I see.” v
“I doubt it.” His lips didn’t curve, but for the first time since I’d met him, he seemed almost human.
“Okay, who gave it to you?”
“A grateful Furinac who had been unable to communicate with Colonial Militia during an unauthorized transport.”
“He must have been really grateful,” I said as I caressed the soft seat covering. “What exactly did you do for him?”
“That requires a rather lengthy explanation.” Reever abruptly changed the subject. “Have you toured the Botanical Project Area yet?”
“Some of it.” Kao Torin had taken me to the hybrid gardens. At the time, my interest hadn’t been focused on the scenery. Today I wasn’t interested in much of anything.
“You’re disturbed. What is it?”
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat cushions. “I lost a patient last night.”
To his credit, the chief linguist didn’t offer any false sympathy or pursue the subject. Good thing, too. I was feeling pretty raw, and not in the mood to treat Reever for any injuries I inflicted.
“We’ll be working in the hybrid cultivation area today. There are a number of offworld specimens being crossbred with native plants in production.”
I yawned. “Excuse me.”
“You did not get your five hours’ sleep.”
“No.” It had been less than four since I’d left the FreeClinic. Two since I’d fallen asleep against a decidedly damp pillow.
“Charge Nurse T’Nliqinara told me you’ve worked four extra shifts this week.”
“Uh-huh.” I gazed out the passenger viewer. The last thing I wanted to do was grub around a bunch of plants. Not while the thought that I could have done more to save Alun Karas haunted me.
There was something more I could do, I thought, mentally smacking my palm against my forehead. After completing my service quota, I could visit the accident site. See if it held any clues as to what had killed him.
“Is Dr. Mayer aware of your extended work hours?”
Reever’s persistent intrusion on my thoughts was becoming like the jab of a dermal probe in the same bruised spot. “Dr. Mayer probably spits whenever he hears my name,” I said. “Drop it, all right?”
“What would you care to talk about?”
I was beginning to suspect Reever enjoyed provoking me. He certainly did it often enough. “Nothing, Chief Linguist.” I didn’t have enough energy to parry with him. “You can be the conversational navigator.”
“Very well.” We drew up to a cluster of clear-walled structures, and Reever halted the glidecar. “Tell me what you know about agricultural cultivation.”
“Absolutely nothing outside of a few required Botany courses during secondary school. All of which I paid little or no attention to.” My sarcasm, as usual, failed to provoke him.
“We’ll begin with something basic,” he said. “Perhaps planting some seedlings.”
Two hours later, as I watched Reever patiently dig up and replant the last of my seedlings, I scuffed one foot over the loose, dark soil.
“How was I supposed to know the white things are the roots, and the brown part is supposed to be above ground?” I muttered to myself.
He heard me. “If you had listened when I explained the procedure to you, you would have known.”
I got indignant. “Reever, you never once said the roots were the white things.”
His shoulders tensed as he paused for a moment. “I was not aware I had to specify that fact.”
“Well, I didn’t kill any of them,” I said, then peeped over his shoulder. “Did I?”
“They’ll survive.”
“Great. Tell me, what did that raving maniac mean when he said I had a black thumb?” I referred to the botanical scientist who had thrown a tantrum when he discovered I’d planted every single one of his precious weeds upside down.
“He meant you need to be assigned to another project.”
“Even better.” I had taken an instant dislike to the deliberate cultivation process anyway. As a physician, I had too great a prejudice against dirt and its microorganic contaminants. “What would you recommend I try next, Chief Linguist?”
“Working with something inanimate.”
“Very funny.”
Duncan dusted off his hands and consulted his wrist-corn. “We’re finished,” he said.
“But I-“
He raised one hand. “You’ve done enough.”
“Not yet,” I said. “Hear me out.”
While we washed the clinging soil from .our hands, I explained the circumstances around Alun Karas’s case. Reever agreed with me that it might help to visit the site where the botanist had been collecting samples.
“I am familiar with his work assignment. He was over in a section adjoining the south range. We can reach it from here on foot.”
Walking through the gardens with Reever, I recalled a recent interlude with Kao Torin. Anything to keep me from beating myself up over the Chakaran’s death.
“Thinking of pleasant memories?”
“You’re certainly interested in what I’m thinking all the time,” I said.
“Occupational hazard.”
It was a reasonable attempt by Reever at humor. I shrugged, but my mood lightened considerably. By now we had left the main fields and were walking through some dense growth into the uncultivated areas.
Reever’s hand caught my arm as I stumbled over a hidden tangle of roots, and he stopped while I regained my balance.
That was when it happened.
Reever loomed over me, blocking out the brilliant glow of both suns as his free hand bracketed my other arm. I brought up my hands in pure reflex, and he slid his grip to my wrists.
Wrists in front of his face. I’d seen that before. I felt very hot, yet frozen at the same time, drained of will. A strange sensation invaded my limbs.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, sure he was responsible. I could feel him - God, I thought I could feel him inside my head.
“He was here with you,” the chief linguist said.
“What?”
“The pilot. Torin. He was here with you, wasn’t he?”
“How do you know-“ Horror overcame the paralysis, and I wrenched away from his hands. The bizarre encroachment on my senses ceased at once. It was coming from him. “What was that? What did you do to me?”
“I linked with you.”
“Linked?” I stepped back. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I established a mental link with you, when I touched you. I have tried before, but you did not realize-“
His audacity stunned me. “You did this before!”
“The first time we met, at the Trading Center.” He grabbed my wrists once more and raised them. “This image was one I shared with you.”
“Reever - you-“ I was so angry I was sputtering. “I never said you could touch me or - or-“
“I don’t have to touch you.”
He dropped my wrists. I whirled around, prepared to stomp off in high rage. A heartbeat later my body stopped cooperating. A choked cry burst from my throat as I halted, the sound dying away. I couldn’t move.
I could still feel the breeze on my skin, hear the stirring of the purple leaves, smell the rich, dark soil. But I couldn’t move. Not an inch. From the corner of my eye I saw him come around me, his eyes intent on my face. My throat worked to produce a sound, any sound. Nothing happened.
My brain was still working. He’s doing this to me, I thought. Telepathy was not a skill necessary to become a surgeon, so I knew very little about it. Not that psychic ability was a predominant trait among Terrans, anyway. No, it’s not possible.
Yes, it is. I heard him say. But his lips didn’t move, and I was hearing it in the wrong place. His voice was behind my eyes.
I tested it. Reever? Can you hear me?
Yes. I hear you. He stepped closer, his face only a few inches from mine. There was a peculiar fascination in his cold eyes.
You are really doing this. It was inconceivable, yet I could hear his thoughts, and he could hear mine.
Why? Why are you doing this to me?
You’re the only one I’ve never had to touch.
He was experimenting on me with this thing? Not for long. After I got him out of my head, he’d never try a stunt like this again. He’d be too busy recuperating. Enough, Reever. Get out of my head!
Wait. His hand touched me. I felt cool fingers thread through mine. There’s more.
More what? I demanded.
Images began popping into my thoughts. Disjointed fragments of color and sound and emotion, one after the other, there and gone before I could grasp all the details clearly.
A little boy... frightened... alone...
Contempt... vague faces... a Terran man and woman...
A blade slashing over a small child’s hand...
Gnawing hunger... pain...
There was soon too much to comprehend. I began seeing images of incredible alien worlds, strange creatures, cultures. Heard thousands of languages, voices that whispered, sang, screamed. Tasted bizarre flavors and textures, smelled flowers, chemicals, death. At last I understood.
I was inside Reever. In his mind. Experiencing his memories.
The images paled. I felt someone’s fear. Suffering. Fury. This was what had changed... shaped...
something else... what did it mean? Then it struck me. If I could read his thoughts, see his memories, then Reever could do the same with me.
I had to stop him. Now. Let - me - go.
For one terrifying moment nothing happened. Then the telepathic link that held me suspended vanished. I regained control of my body, but the sensory backlash made me sag to the ground. I heard my trousers rip, felt the rough soil against my knees.
I saw Reever’s hands reaching for me, and in a panic awkwardly crawled backward. “Don’t touch me!”
“Cherijo.” Reever made an impatient sound as I cringed. “I won’t hurt you.” With an impersonal grasp he pulled me to my feet. I tried to make my legs support me, but they weren’t ready. That forced me to hold on to him. “Are you injured?”
“Injured?”
He looked down. “You’ve grazed your knees-“
“You just took control of my mind and body, against my will, and you want to know if my knees hurt?”
Frantically, I shoved his hands away and staggered back. “Get away from me!”
“I apologize.”
He had to be joking. Had to. I stared at him. Nope, he wasn’t.
“Take your apology and stuff it.” Steadier now, I swiped at the dirt and leaves clinging to my trousers.
“I meant no harm.”
“Right.” I managed a shaky laugh. Sure, no harm done, Cherijo, what are you getting upset about? “Do you do this a lot?”
Those remote blue eyes narrowed. “No. Never with another human.”
Oh, I was his first, was I? That did it. I stepped forward until we were only a few inches apart. He looked puzzled, but not for long. I swung, and put my back into it. He landed on his backside a few feet away, eyes wide, holding one scarred hand to his face. My knuckles throbbed painfully. It felt wonderful.
“Don’t ever, ever touch me again!” Then I did stomp off, with great pleasure.
“Cherijo, wait.”
“Go to hell!” I shouted back at him.
“You’re going in the wrong direction.”
“Damn!” I stopped, closed my eyes, spun around, glared. Reever was back on his feet, gingerly rubbing his jaw. “Where is it?”
He pointed to a spot a few yards away. “There. Where the gnorra trees are.”
The small clearing still contained the ruined equipment and hardened sap sprays that covered a three-yard radius. I examined the container and gazed around at J