Beyond Varallan

by S. L. Viehl

  To expedite matters, I immersed myself in analyzing all the available data on the two dead men. Someone on board the ship had killed the engineer and the mercenary. How they’d been murdered was still unknown. Over the following weeks, I ran every test I could think of, and every comparative analysis possible between the two men’s medical records. I came to the conclusion that whatever killed them wasn’t a known viral, bacterial, chemical, or organic agent.

  That trimmed the possibilities down to a weapon. But what sort of weapon turned a living body into slush? That and thoughts of the future kept me pacing the deck far into the night.

  Determination became obsession. I forgot to take meal intervals. Weight I didn’t need to lose melted off me. The lack of sleep made me look haggard, too. Still I kept at it, and mainly ignored the renewed, sympathetic concern from the crew.

  One afternoon, while I was completing some chart notations, the Senior Healer appeared early to relieve me. She put one of the residents in charge of the ward and took my arm.

  “Come,” she said. “I have something I wish to show you.”

  Grumbling a little about not finishing rounds, I followed Tonetka out of the Medical Bay. We took the gyrlift down to level nine. Outside the environome, she activated the panel viewer.

  Inside, a dozen children were making the finishing touches on a huge tower of intricately shaped celebration breads. Beside them a half dozen educators were preparing tables and seating for a large group.

  “What’s the occasion?” I asked.

  “I accessed your personnel data file,” Tonetka said. “On Terra, today is the fourteenth of July.”

  “It isn’t.” My heart sank, and I groaned. “You didn’t.” She keyed open the panel and pushed me inside with a gentle shove. “I will join you later, after rounds.”

  As soon as they saw me, the children shouted, “Happy Birthday, Healer Cherijo!”

  The kids led me to the place of honor at the head of the table. Ktarka Torin stood there, arranging servers and smiling at me. There was still a slight stiffness to the way she held herself, and some faded bruises on her face.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She ducked her head and made a graceful sweep of one hand. “It is nothing.”

  After what she’d been through, I didn’t blame her for not wanting to discuss it. Especially with the person who’d caused the whole mess. I glanced around me, not quite sure how to handle this sudden outpouring of benevolent kindness. Running and hiding was pretty tempting. “Tonetka talk you into doing this?”

  “On Joren we do not celebrate the beginning of this path as humans do,” the other woman said, misunderstanding me. “However, as you have accommodated our customs, so we wished to do the same.” Everyone gathered around us. “We wish you a joyous day of birth, Healer Cherijo.”

  “Yes, joyous birthday, Healer!” one of the kids said.

  “Happiness always!” another called. Then more voices chimed in, until I gave up, rolled my eyes, and held out my arms.

  “Okay, okay.” I laughed and hugged as many children as I could hold at once.

  “We have made the wax sticks you light with flame for the breads,” one of Fasala’s classmates told me. “Do all Terrans set their food on fire before they eat it?”

  The thought of that strange custom produced a great deal of giggling.

  “No, that isn’t right!” an older child said. “They only set fire to the round baked thing they call a cake!”

  “We are sorry we do not have a cake, Healer,” Ktarka said. “There was no program on the database for such.”

  “This is perfect.” I spied the pile of gaily wrapped packages by my seat with some dismay. “Presents, too?”

  From behind the crowd of kids I saw Xonea, Dhreen, and Alunthri enter the environome.

  “Everyone is here now, Healer, can we begin?”

  “Sure.” Maybe I could sneak out at some point.

  I sat down, and eyed the formidable tower of breads. Ktarka carefully lit the small candles, which flickered and glowed as the environome darkened.

  The children’s voices swelled into a classic rendition of “Happy Birthday.” I had to blink back tears as they finished.

  “Extinguish the fires, Healer!”

  “No, impatient one, she must entreat her gods first!”

  “Yes, yes, entreat your gods, Healer Cherijo!”

  I closed my eyes, and wished the Captain would grant my request, today. Then I leaned over, and with a show of much huffing and puffing, blew out all twenty-nine candles.

  There was a burst of Terran-style applause. I saw Xonea watching me, and tried out a tentative smile on him. He returned it. That was a pretty nice birthday gift in itself. We’d been avoiding each other since the challenge.

  Where is Reever? that traitorous inner voice asked. I told it to shut up.

  Everyone took their places as Ktarka and I portioned out the beautifully made breads. Dhreen cheerfully passed around fruit beverages for the children, but insisted I sample the vintage Terran spicewine he had brought as his gift to me.

  “It will produce bristles on your bosom,” he said.

  After a profusion of joking and laughing, and eating every delicious morsel, the kids pressed me to open my gifts. One by one I was solemnly presented with delightful handmade articles. Ornaments for my hair. Beautifully woven baskets. An extensive disc collection of Jorenian poetry from the educators. A special blend of floral tea from Ktarka. Even a whimsical plassfiber sculpture of Jenner.

  Alunthri gave me a tiny dimensional imager, which I held in my hand and examined, puzzled. The Chakacat activated a tiny switch on the bottom, and a small projection of a NessNevat child appeared. This one was happy, healthy, and smiled at me.

  “Remember there is no great misfortune, Cherijo, without some small benefit,” Alunthri said. “The NessNevat will thrive again.”

  I had no idea what the small benefit was, but I hugged my friend, and the big cat didn’t say a word about the wet patch my cheek left on its fur.

  Adaola and the other nurses on duty had sent a gorgeous yiborra grass basket they had all worked on. It was filled with real flowers that, according to Xonea, Adaola grew in her quarters as a hobby. Xonea’s gift, the alien prismatic nodules I’d admired in his quarters, trilled a lovely handful of notes as soon as I opened the package.

  One present had no label, but when I opened it I knew who had sent it.

  “Is that to aid cleansing, Healer?” one of the kids asked.

  “No,” I said, and put the elegant brush and comb set aside. “It’s to keep my hair tidy.”

  When Tonetka joined us a short time later, she handed me a metallic cylinder.

  “For you, with my wish that your path continues in beauty,” she said.

  I opened the tubular case. Inside was an actual paper scroll. I carefully unrolled it. The smooth surface was filled with the beautiful but incomprehensible pictographs of Jorenian written language.

  “I hope these are not my marching orders,” I said.

  Ktarka leaned over my shoulder to see, then shook her head.

  “No, Healer.” Her cheek brushed against mine for a moment as she gave me a quick hug. “It is a deed of naturalization. You are now a citizen of Joren.”

  My jaw dropped into my lap. My boss looked smug.

  “I assured the Ruling Houses you would bring honor to us,” she said, and made an airy gesture. “As you say, no big deal.”

  On the contrary. “I’m Jorenian now?”

  “As much as if you were born Torin,” Tonetka said. She laughed. “May the Mother of All Houses help us.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Art and Soul

  My birthday would have been perfect, if I hadn’t accessed my relays after the party. When I returned to my quarters, I made myself a server of Ktarka’s tea, then accessed my display. After the surprise party, I’d expected a few signals.

  A few? My intership file was packed.

 
; Some of the crew had a good idea of what a birthday was. “Greetings on the anniversary of your nativity—”

  Others stuck with conventional blessings. “May the Mother of All Houses grant you prosperity—”

  A few seemed to think I’d given birth myself. “Healer! Joyous time of delivery—”

  Then there was the good old standby, journey philosophy. “We wish your path commencement commemoration to be smooth and trouble free—”

  I had a good time until I found one relay originally routed to Ship’s Operational. I checked the file, but there was no tag. Odd. Probably a mix-up, I thought, and signaled the S.O.

  “Ndo, I think I’ve received one of your relays by mistake.” I transferred the relay to his terminal.

  The second in command made an embarrassed gesture and transferred it back to me.

  “Your pardon, Healer Cherijo. I did not label it as I meant to contact you first. Since the attack, however, we have been busy.” Operating Command from the lower level while crews worked to repair the badly damaged upper levels had kept everyone on double shifts. “This relay was originally meant for you.”

  “Where did it originate?” I asked.

  “It was transmitted by one of the mercenary ships,” Ndo said. “From your parent, Healer.”

  I toyed with the idea of destroying the relay without ever accessing it. “Thank you, Ndo.” I terminated the signal and sat at the display for a while.

  My parent. Well, that was one word for him.

  Dr. Joseph Grey Veil began his career as a brilliant surgeon, then went into research, developing new and better techniques in thoracic surgery. Over the years, his work (mainly creating cloned, disease-free organs for transplant patients) had saved millions of lives.

  For years I had believed my “father” had dedicated himself to the preservation of life. He had. Just as long as they were human lives.

  Joseph Grey Veil had organized a group of fellow rabid xenophobes and had the Genetic Exclusivity Act passed as World Law. Through his efforts, nonhuman immigrants were forever prohibited from settling on Terra.

  His place in history secured, Joseph decided to apply his genius to one more project. He wanted to create the perfect human. The ultimate physician.

  That’s where I came in.

  Joseph Grey Veil created me by cloning his own cells. I wasn’t the first of his prototypes, but so far the only successful one. Nine other clones had been created before me. None of my “brothers” had developed properly in Joseph’s experimental embryonic chamber.

  That was a shame. I’d hated being an only child.

  My creator had extensively refined my DNA, changing my gender and fine tuning just about everything else. Nine months later he became daddy to a seven-and-a-half pound bouncing baby girl. He even named me with the project’s acronym: Comprehensive Human Enhancement Research ID: J Organism—C.H.E.R.I.J.O.

  That was twenty-nine years ago, today.

  I took a deep breath and pulled up the relay. An austere face appeared on my display. Joseph Grey Veil was an attractive, if somewhat remote, Terran male. His silver-black hair (like mine) was kept short and perfectly groomed (unlike mine). He didn’t like his slight stature (like me), because he worked hard to maintain his over-developed physique (unlike me).

  Women were initially drawn to him. Some even lasted a few minutes in his company. My creator limited himself to two topics of conversation: What a Genius I Am, and My Future Brilliant Plans. No wonder he had resorted to test tubes for procreative purposes.

  Curiosity proves lethal to many life-forms. Jenner had enough sense to scamper out of sight when I played back the message.

  “I send this message for the nonsentient designated Cherijo Grey Veil.” Joseph’s attitude hadn’t changed. By claiming I was nothing more than an experiment, he had convinced the Allied League of Worlds to help him recover his “property.” “I am informed many among the crew of the Sunlace were injured during the recent recovery attempt by League loyalists.”

  “Recovery attempt? League loyalists?” I scoffed. “Is that what they’re calling unprovoked attacks by bounty-hungry thugs now?”

  He didn’t respond to that. It was a prerecorded relay—he couldn’t. “You must realize the risk you present to the Jorenians,” he said. “Your oath as a physician directs you to do no harm. Surrender to any Allied League world. I will personally negotiate on your behalf.”

  “I’d enjoy that. About as much as Anteberran Orifice Disease.” I studied the image. He looked remarkably calm and unruffled. Not a sign of weakness. But something . . .

  I stepped closer to the display. Something wasn’t right. His eyes seemed strange. I expected the usual “I’m God, you’re clay” sneer. But my creator had changed. This Joseph Grey Veil looked almost . . . feverish.

  His message continued. “Your willing surrender would ensure the League’s magnanimity. As long as my field trials continue, you may expect to be lavishly rewarded.”

  “What I want won’t fit in a culture dish,” I said. Okay, so he couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t help myself.

  “Your cooperation would guarantee you virtually limitless compensation.”

  “There you go,” I said. “When in doubt, fling credits.”

  He paused for a moment. Ah, there was that superior smirk I hated more than anything in existence. I’d almost missed it.

  “Twenty-nine years ago I took you from an embryonic chamber. You owe me your life.”

  “Joe, you remembered my birthday. I’m touched.”

  The feverish glitter in his eyes intensified. “Come back to me, my dear child.”

  My jaw sagged. The man I once considered my father had never called me my dear anything. Never. He was either drugged, or losing his mind. I didn’t know which to root for.

  “Disembark on any League world. Your allies will not be prosecuted. I will allow—”

  Allow? God, he loved that word, didn’t he? I terminated the relay and keyed my console to erase the message. That was progress. His last message had made me so mad I’d destroyed an entire console.

  Before I moved away, a general announcement was made. The Sunlace was preparing to transition, and begin orbit around the planet Garnot. Alunthri’s new home, I recalled. We were there already?

  I waited out the transition, and subsequent brief disorientation. All at once I felt exhausted, drained of all emotion, and barely made it my sleeping platform.

  “Comprehensive Human Enhancement Research ID: J Organism,” my creator’s voice hissed.

  I was thrust into blinding light. Through a fluid, distorting wall, I looked at a slightly younger version of Joseph Grey Veil.

  “My finest achievement.”

  I knew this place. I looked around the huge bubble I was floating in. Everything seemed perfect normal. I lived here. This was the place of new beginnings, something told me. The passage to . . .

  Suddenly the fluid began to drain rapidly from the capsule. I felt myself clawing at my face, unable to breathe in the liquid that kept me alive. Hard hands pulled my tiny body into cold emptiness. My eyes were scalded by merciless light. A tube was roughly inserted into my tender mouth. Cold, metallic-tasting air filled my lungs. I pushed it out at once.

  “Yes, yes,” a voice said. “Breathe.”

  “Give her to me.”

  The woman’s voice penetrated my terror. I felt myself moving. Through blurred eyes I saw a familiar set of features. Wonderfully gentle hands cradled me against a yielding breast. The tube was adjusted, supported.

  “Cherijo,” she whispered. A finger caressed my face. “Yes, little one, you are safe. You made the passage.”

  “Put it down on the table so I may begin the examination.”

  “Her, Joseph.” The woman sounded angry. “She’s a little girl.”

  “It’s a clone,” he said. “Until we know it will survive, it is foolish to form an emotional attachment.”

  I managed to open my eyes. I looked from the woman’s t
aut, unhappy face to the cold visage and large hands of the man reaching for me. The tube was removed. I open my tiny mouth. Drew my first voluntary breath. Used it to scream.

  The dream twisted, changed abruptly. I was dragged from the terrifying lab to another familiar place. I was in the benign and comfortable chamber again. The light was dim and the air soft against my skin. Something warm seemed to draw me forward, leading me into the shadows.

  “Outcast,” a beautiful voice said. Hands stroked my hair and face. “Belonging to no one.”

  I felt the pain of my loneliness and isolation at once multiplied tenfold. My tears were smoothed away by a soft caress.

  “I don’t want to be alone,” I said.

  “That is what brought us together. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Nothing will ever harm you again.” Lips touched mine. When I would have jerked back, the hands held me fast. “No, let me show you the path.”

  The hands became more insistent as they moved down my body. The alien touch didn’t arouse me. I felt my skin crawl, and pushed the hands away.

  Fingers curled into fists. “You dare?”

  Something slammed into me, over and over and over—

  “Stop it!”

  I was sitting up in bed, shouting.

  Jenner peered at me from under “our” favorite chair. Stop screaming already! His eyes were huge and frightened. I got out of it!

  The vivid quality of the nightmare shook me. Made me nauseous. I scrambled off the bed, hunched over with the memory of the pain. I had to get clean again. Wash away the nightmare. Ignoring the bruised sensations, I stumbled to my cleanser unit and proceeded to scrub myself thoroughly.

  My door panel chime rang repeatedly, forcing me to leave the stall. I dried off quickly and pulled on a robe.

  Xonea stood outside. “Cherijo.”

  I knotted the belt of my robe securely and checked to make sure nothing was on display. “What are you—”

  “You were heard crying out.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I had a nightmare.”

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” I stepped aside. I was shocked to see Captain Pnor following him. “Captain?” What was he doing here? I confronted the two Jorenians uneasily. Xonea kept staring at my wet hair and state of undress. He seemed almost revolted.