Beyond Varallan

by S. L. Viehl

  Nothing could make me this tired. I’d been drugged again.

  I reached up and hit the comm panel with an awkward swipe.

  “Xonea . . .” I fell back and slid down the wall. “Alert . . . Xon—”

  He was hurting me again. The man with the hard hands, who relentlessly probed my body. I screamed and writhed until I thought my lungs would burst.

  “Resistance test gamma-fourteen negative,” he said. “No signs of contagion.”

  “Shall I prepare the next series, Doctor?”

  The dark blue eyes looked down at me. “Give me the nasal probe. I want to check the sinuses.”

  “If she sounds snotty, it’s because she’s been crying for an hour, Joseph!”

  The woman pushed him out of the way and took me in her arms. She wrapped my naked body in something soft and warm while she glared at the man.

  “Margaret, put her down.”

  “You’re hurting her.”

  “She will not remember any of this.”

  “You hope she won’t.” The woman cradled me close, and my shrill screams died as I nuzzled instinctively at her breast. “When was the last time you fed her?”

  “We must keep her stomach empty until the trial is complete.” The man made a curt sound. “It will not harm her to go without nourishment for a twenty-four-hour period.”

  “Give me a bottle.”

  “Put her down and leave, Margaret.”

  “And if I don’t?” she demanded. “What are you going to do, Joseph? Starve me, too?”

  “Put her down!”

  My body was wrenched from the woman’s arms, and I heard her scream blend with mine.

  Take control of the dream, Cherijo.

  Take control.

  Take take take—

  I was standing in a chamber, my breath burning in my chest. The presence hovered there in the depths of the shadows, just out of reach. I tried to take control, to leave that place.

  “You think you can control me, little one? Me!” The laughter was chilling. “I could crush you with a thought.”

  “Then do it.” I centered my consciousness and drew strength from the sense of power it gave me. “Get it over with.”

  “You know nothing of power. Watch and learn.”

  Before my eyes a window appeared, one that displayed the level where I had just been interviewed by Ndo. He was still there, looking over my report, frowning and making notes on a touchpad.

  “He resents his place in the succession, but would never reveal it to Pnor.”

  “Leave him alone!”

  “Look at him. Ever loyal, steadfast Ndo, who has yet to Choose, yet to make a child. He thinks he knows something, but his arrogance blocks insight.” The voice lowered, became almost gleeful. “Let me show him the true inner path.”

  I saw a ring of light form in mid-air behind the S.O. He jerked back, falling from his chair as the light shattered over his body.

  “Stop it!” I shouted.

  “It is done. Now he will know the emptiness I feel.”

  I watched in horror as Ndo collapsed in convulsions. He was dead in minutes.

  “You killed Roelm and that mercenary, didn’t you? You bastard!”

  The presence turned on me. Smashed into my mind. I couldn’t shield myself from the pounding fists. The shrill voice shrieked disjointed accusations, punctuated by more blows.

  “You let him . . . believed you . . . killed for you . . .” Another presence was there. Something vague, far beyond the battering hands. The other spoke to me.

  Cherijo. Wake up. You must wake up.

  “. . . make you wish . . . never born . . .” the first one was screaming. I couldn’t take much more. I reached out, desperate to escape.

  Cherijo. Wake up. Wake up!

  “Cherijo!”

  Someone slapped me, hard.

  “Wake up!”

  I fell out of the dream, and found myself in a convulsive state. Pain clutched at me. I curled up in a fetal position, automatically trying to protect my injuries. Literally every single inch of my flesh throbbed in agony. My eyes fluttered open when six-fingered hands touched me.

  Xonea rolled me onto my back. I was on the deck. Then the world went black.

  The next thing I knew the big pilot was running, carrying me in his arms. I fought to keep my eyes open.

  “Ndo?” Strong hands kept me from getting loose. “Ndo! He’s in trouble!”

  “Be calm, Cherijo. You are injured.”

  I fell unconscious again, and woke up on an exam table. The Senior Healer was leaning over me.

  “Tonetka? Ndo!” I tried to hurl myself off the table. Xonea’s face appeared on the other side. Now his hands held me down. “I have to—”

  “Remain still, Healer.” Tonetka opened my tunic and performed a brisk, thorough examination. Xonea averted his eyes, while I glanced down. Saw more bruises forming on my pale skin. A lot more.

  “Tonetka.” She met my gaze. “What the hell happened?”

  “You were beaten,” Xonea said, his voice low and filled with dangerous menace. Now he looked, memorizing each mark.

  I sagged back on the exam pad. “Then it’s too late.”

  “Too late?” Tonetka echoed.

  “Ndo. He’s dead. Whoever did this killed him.”

  I was confined to a berth in Medical Bay. Again.

  “Anaphylactoid purpura,” Tonetka said a day later. “Severe ecchymoses and petechiae. Three reasons you will stay in that berth, Healer, until I advise you differently.”

  “We’ve done this before, remember?” I said. “I won last time.”

  She clutched a scanner and passed it over me. “The last time you were my patient, you did not have ruptured blood vessels over virtually every centimeter of your epidermis!”

  “No, I had a stroke and two heart attacks. That was a lot worse than a couple of bruises.”

  Tonetka muttered something that the nurse next to her overheard. The younger Jorenian woman’s eyes rounded. “Senior Healer!”

  “She’ll never do it,” I told the nurse. “And if she tries, I’ll thump her.”

  “I would be greatly entertained by such an attempt!” Tonetka said.

  A resident came over, brave enough to enter the fray.

  “Senior Healer. Healer Cherijo. You are disturbing the other patients.”

  “See?” I glared at her. “You’re disturbing the other patients. Now give me my clothes, so I can get up and strangle you myself.”

  “I should have induced a coma!” Tonetka said. Was that gesture she made a nonverbal obscenity? “Divert your path with your Terran stupidity. I will dance at your death ceremony.” She stalked off to her next patient.

  The news confirming Ndo’s death had left both Tonetka and me with frayed tempers, I thought, and sighed.

  “Pig-headed old witch.” I shrugged at the wide-eyed nurse. “What’s worse is she’s probably right.”

  Later, one of the residents offered me an analgesic for my bruises, but I refused. My mind was muddled enough. I didn’t want to take a chance and slip into another unprotected sleep.

  The next time I might not wake up.

  The crew heard, of course, and many stopped by to visit me. The Senior Healer spent more time that day chasing HouseClan Torin out of Medical than she did examining the patients. The only thing I was allowed to receive was a package.

  “What’s this?” I turned the slim box over in my hands.

  “Our passenger from Garnot sent it for you,” the Senior Healer said. “Dhreen related the nature of your injuries to him, and he wished you to have this.”

  I opened the lid, and removed a thin, golden cuff. “Wow. Nice bauble.”

  “One he claims will heal the body and soothe the soul.”

  “If it does, you’ll be out of a job,” I said, admiring the pretty thing. I slipped it over my hand, but it was a little too big for my wrist.

  “Traders will say anything to peddle their wares,” Tonetka
said as she examined me, then instructed one of the residents to cover the ward until the Omorr reported for his shift.

  “Hey, where are you going?”

  “I have a class today with the primary students.” Tonetka often scheduled time to teach the Jorenian children. She was an expert in a number of subjects, including (of course) journey philosophy. She held up an old, wicked-looking blade. “Today I am presenting facts for the children about prehistoric medical practices and instruments.”

  “Ugh. That looks sharp. I wouldn’t pass it around. Here.” I removed the bracelet and placed it around her wrist. “You like? You wear. It doesn’t fit me, and I’ll just lose it or something.”

  Once Tonetka had departed, I managed to talk one of the nurses into procuring a terminal for my use by making a solemn and soon-to-be-broken promise to access it for no more than an hour or two.

  “The Senior Healer will be most upset if she finds you at work when she returns,” the nurse said. “Then you will begin insulting each other and disrupting the ward—again.”

  “Don’t worry.” I winked at her. “I’ll take all the blame and the insults.”

  I retrieved all pertinent records pertaining to Fasala’s injuries, the mercenary attack, and the deaths of Roelm, the Terran Leo, and Ndo.

  The facts would begin to correlate, I thought, if I kept shuffling them around. Roelm, Leo, and Ndo had each died of identical symptoms from as of yet unidentified causes. Fasala and the two educators had been injured, not killed. The only thing the dead victims had in common was that they were male. Fasala and the educators weren’t, and their wounds were completely different, too.

  I was comparing medical histories when Xonea appeared and sat down beside my berth.

  “Healer, you are looking well.”

  “I thought Jorenians didn’t lie.” I looked terrible, and he knew it. “Any progress?”

  “The Captain has discovered no evidence connecting the attack on you and Ndo’s death,” he said, and glanced at the data on my terminal. “You are comparing medical charts?”

  “I had hoped to find some similarity in their profiles.” I removed the charts on Fasala and the two educators and concentrated on the dead men. “Roelm and Ndo were Jorenian, approximately the same age. Yet Roelm was much heavier than Ndo. The Terran mercenary was older than both, but weighed much less. They were killed in different parts of the ship. Roelm and Leo were surrounded by different people. Ndo died alone. He was murdered at his Command display, wasn’t he?”

  “Hado found his body exactly where you said it would be,” Xonea said. Absently, he rubbed one hand across his abdomen. “Do you recall anything else?”

  “Only that I have no idea why I wasn’t killed, too.” I switched off the terminal and put my head back. “Tonetka believes whatever killed the men couldn’t have caused my injuries.” Xonea was staring oddly at me. Again. “What?”

  “It has been suggested that your injuries prove you were involved with Ndo’s murder,” he said. “That Ndo inflicted them upon you in self-defense.”

  “Just who is spewing this waste?” I demanded.

  “Captain Pnor will not say. There is more I may do to prove your innocence, with your . . . cooperation.”

  I’d heard this kind of proposal before. Last time it got me engaged. “Define cooperation.”

  “The one who assaulted you will try again. Allow me to guard you.”

  “Guard me?” An image of Xonea dogging my heels made me frown. “I don’t see you following me around all day.”

  “You can be monitored while you are on duty. I will watch over you by sharing your quarters.”

  “You mean, move in with me? I thought you needed to bond with someone for that.”

  “Full bonding is not required. It is the only way I can protect you.”

  I sat up straight again. “I told you before, I don’t need a baby-sitter.”

  That didn’t make him happy. “You must do this, Cherijo.” He stood. “You are my Chosen.”

  There was nothing that equaled Jorenian arrogance. Except me. “That doesn’t make me your property, fly boy.”

  “Under HouseClan law, you must obey me.”

  I’d never heard that before. “Space your HouseClan law!” I slammed my hand onto the terminal keypad, scrambling the data.

  “It is our path, Cherijo,” he said, then grimaced and pressed his hand against his stomach again.

  “Your path is giving me a headache, and you an ulcer!”

  Before Xonea could reply, an explosion rocked the Sunlace . This one was much more violent than the tremors caused by the mercenary attack. I was flung from my berth onto the floor. Xonea covered me with his body. His massive weight forced the breath out of my lungs.

  “Alert,” the display panel announced. “Hull breach on levels five, six, eighteen, and twenty-eight. Internal buffers compromised. Levels will be secured. Evacuation must commence.”

  “The League must have tracked us from Garnot.” Xonea pulled me up with him.

  I stripped the monitor ports from my arms and called for the staff. Everyone in Medical mobilized around us.

  “I want all senior residents to stay put,” I said. “Squilyp, you’re in charge.” The Omorr nodded. “Set up for heavy casualties. You four emergency teams, take the gyrlifts to the nearest level you can get to the compromised areas. Xonea, which level has the greatest concentration of crew members?”

  “Level six. The sub-executive bays and educational facilities are located there.”

  “No.” I paled. “Tonetka. The kids.”

  After dividing up the teams, we grabbed our emergency packs and raced out. More turbulence rocked the ship. I stumbled several times along to the way to the level above Medical. Xonea always managed to grab me before I hit the deck.

  Xonea and I entered level six ahead of the team. Heat and a sudden, dense cloud of noxious smoke enveloped us. From the emergency kit I carried I pulled out two breathers and handed one to Xonea. I looked over my shoulder to assure the nurses were masking as well.

  “Keep your hand on my arm!” Xonea’s voice was muffled by the mask. I nodded and grabbed onto his sleeve. He led me through the blinding fumes to the first of the children’s classrooms. The door panel was jammed. When Xonea started to force it open, a burst of flames made him snatch his hands away.

  “Look!” I shouted, pointing through the open gap. Over the fiery wall we saw a group of small bodies huddled in a tight mound. Two educators were shielding the children from the fire with their own bodies. One of them was Ktarka Torin.

  Evacuation units kicked in at last. They removed enough smoke from the level corridor to let us take off our breathers.

  “Emergency controls are operational,” Xonea said. He keyed the exterior deck panel. I wiped the filthy sweat from my face on my sleeve and saw a square aperture open in the upper deck just inside the classroom door panel. “This will extinguish the flames.”

  Thick streams of chemical foam cascaded from the slot. It worked—the flames were smothered at once. That left smoke, which was as deadly as fire.

  “We’ve got to clear the air,” I told him.

  “I am purging the room through the exchange dampers,” he said as he rewired the panel controls. I didn’t wait to watch him, but strapped on my breather. After I grabbed my pack, I kicked aside some smoldering debris, and stepped inside.

  The children had to be checked first. All of them were coughing heavily. I handed out breathers as I made a quick scan of each child for lung damage and burns. The educators were calm and kept reassuring the children. I would have never guessed both women had second-degree burns on their backs, a fact I discovered right after I’d dealt with the kids.

  Ktarka’s eyes were still filled with panic as she tried to hold the singed shreds of her tunic over her breasts. I patted the part of her shoulder that wasn’t injured as I passed my scanner over her.

  “Hold on, lady,” I said. She gave me a confused stare. Shock was sta
rting to set in. “You’ll be just fine.” One of the nurses appeared beside me, a syrinpress in her hand. I injected Ktarka with pentazalcine and helped the nurse get the educator to her feet.

  “Healer—” Ktarka began, then coughed violently.

  We both stumbled against each other when the Sunlace’s hull was battered with a fresh wave of displacer fire. The nurse supported Ktarka from the opposite side as she sagged. It took a few minutes to maneuver her limp body out the door panel and gently down on the deck. We went back for the other educator and the kids.

  Once the classroom was evacuated, I turned to the nurse.

  “Have the women taken to Medical.” I pointed to the children who were in respiratory distress. “These four, too.” I went to the only functional corridor display, and routed a signal to Medical.

  Squilyp’s face appeared. Behind him, I saw the staff trotting in different directions. “Doctor?”

  The ship rocked wildly again. I grabbed the sides of the console and held on. “I’m sending you two adults, both with second-degree burns. Four kids on oxygen. Gyrlifts are down, so they’ll be on gurneys. Check everyone for inhalation exposure and toxins. Set up for more burn patients.” I felt the transitional thrusters many decks below throb into life. “What’s your status?”

  “The ward is full. Three serious, one critical. I’m prepping for surgery.” The Omorr looked over his shoulder and yelled at a nurse, “Move those low priorities out in the corridor!” He looked back at me. “Adaola is taking triage—”

  “Caution,” the display interrupted. “Emergency transition.”

  “Get those patients prepped. Don’t be exemplary today, Squil,” I said. “Be quick. Go!”

  He nodded, and I terminated the signal.

  “Cherijo?”

  At Xonea’s call, I left the nurse to take care of the patients. The rest of the classrooms we could access were empty, he told me when I caught up with him. The Jorenian stood before an insurmountable pile of rubble blocking off the corridor leading up to level five.

  Transition into another dimension began without warning. Once reality untwisted, I found myself on the deck, sprawled next to Xonea. I rubbed a hand over the new bruises on my hip.