Beyond Varallan

by S. L. Viehl

  “Dhreen!” I tossed it to him, and he raced out of the quarters into the corridor.

  “No!” Ktarka tried to get up and follow the Oenrallian. I jumped on top of her, but she thrust me aside with one hand. I landed against Salo’s display case, shattering the protective plass panels. My arms covered my head as I huddled, protecting myself from the sharp shards raining over me.

  When I eased my arms down, I saw Xonea had Ktarka by the throat. She hung suspended a good foot above the deck.

  He was shouting and shaking her. “Where are they?”

  “Xonea!” I got up, and the plass shards rained from my tunic to the deck. “Don’t kill her!”

  He released her, and Ktarka dropped to the deck on her knees. I went to her, took her by the shoulders.

  “Ktarka, it is over. Where are Darea and Fasala?”

  “I wanted you,” she said, sobbing. She lifted her hand to touch my face. “So small, so perfect. So like me within.” Her hand fell to the floor, then came up again. Before I realized what she was doing, a jagged piece of plass slashed across my face.

  Hado yanked me back, shielding me with his body. Blood spurted from the gash under my right eye through the fingers I pressed against it. Ktarka crawled backward until she hit a wall panel.

  “You will never find them. This I vow.”

  She rose unsteadily, and before anyone could stop her, plunged the knife-shaped shard into her heart.

  An hour later, Adaola finished temporarily repairing the damage to my face. Ktarka’s body had been removed from Salo’s quarters, and I sent a grey-faced Hado to Medical, to have a complete exam. Xonea and Reever remained, quietly discussing options.

  “Cherijo,” Xonea said at last. “How did you discover Ktarka was the one responsible?”

  “I got lucky.” I winced as Adaola sprayed skinseal over the deep gash. “Ouch.”

  “It requires sutures, Senior Healer. You must return to Medical,” the nurse said, then gazed at the bloodstained deck where Ktarka had fallen. “I can hardly believe it myself. She seemed so gentle a person.”

  “Hardly,” I said. “Never got to make my big finish, did I?” I waved at Reever. “Let Duncan show you.”

  He reached over and pulled the covering from the bulky item still sitting on the table between us. The sentient crystal from Garnot had shaped itself again. This time, it portrayed two figures during a terrifying assault. Darea on her knees, arms flung out as a decidedly ungentle Ktarka struck her from behind.

  “That’s one very smart crystal,” I said. “Maybe we can make it a member of the crew.” Dhreen walked in, looking satisfied. “Well?” I demanded.

  “I deactivated it, Doc. It’s over.”

  Xonea turned to me. “We must find Darea and Fasala.”

  “I shook my head. As crazy as Ktarka had been, I held little hope of finding them alive. “Could she have ejected them through one of the pressure locks?”

  Xonea made a swift gesture. “We would have picked up the ejections on our perimeter scanners.”

  “Are there any gyrlifts that have been sealed off?” Dhreen asked.

  Reever rose to his feet. “Perhaps we should search her quarters.”

  Xonea went with us. While he and I searched through Ktarka’s sparse belongings, Reever went to work on her personal console. Evidently he gained access to her personal files, and I noticed him scrolling through screen after screen of what looked like engineering schematics.

  I went to stand behind him. “Find anything?”

  “Ktarka was a brilliant woman. Her designs will revolutionize Jorenian ship-building techniques.”

  “Excuse me if I don’t applaud her genius.” I peered at the complex diagrams. “There must be a thousand places on this ship to hide someone.” Something I saw made me grab his shoulder. “Wait. Go back two screens.” He did, and I pointed to a pair of long, capsule-shaped objects. “What are those?”

  “According to her notes, they are receptacles made of sonic alloy.”

  “Receptacles for what?” I checked the dimensions listed. They were too small to hold any of the stardrive equipment. “Probes?”

  “They are approximately the same size as the ceremonial receptacles the Jorenians use for their dead,” Reever said.

  “But why make them out of sonic alloy?”

  Xonea joined us, and I filled him in. He studied the pods. “Ktarka could have used these to conceal the bodies of Darea and Fasala.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question. Why put them in sonic alloy capsules? If they’re dead, why bother?”

  Reever glanced up at me. “Perhaps they are not dead yet.”

  “Okay. We know she knocked Darea out. Then she puts Darea in the capsule, and takes her somewhere on the ship where she won’t be found. Maybe the same place Fasala is.” I thought about what Ktarka had said. You will not find them. Suddenly it all came together. “There’s only one place on the ship we wouldn’t search.”

  Xonea went still. “The power core.”

  A few minutes later, I finished making the same proposal to the Senior Engineer. He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  “It is inconceivable, Senior Healer. No life-form could survive more than a few minutes inside the core.”

  “Let’s take a look anyway.”

  “You cannot simply ‘take a look’ at the core!” one of the engineers protested. My pal Barrea, however, was busily exercising some brain cells.

  “Inspection portals,” he said. The Senior Engineer now stared at him. “We access them to examine the structural constitution before we flood the core.”

  “Don’t be foolish!” Barrea’s boss made a blustering gesture. “No one could enter a fully flooded core!”

  I ignored him and turned to Barrea. “What if I was wearing a full envirosuit?”

  Barrea nodded. “That should provide protection, for a few minutes.”

  The Senior Engineer threw up his graceful hands. “After which you would receive a fatal dose of radiation!”

  “I’ll hurry up,” I told him. To Barrea, I said, “Will you back me up on audio?”

  “Even if Darea and Fasala are still alive in the core,” Xonea said, “how can you get them out?”

  “Ktarka got them in, right? She must have accessed one of the larger transductor junctions and shoved them through it.”

  “No, not through the transductors. There are access domes in the inspection portal. They are very much like gyrlifts,” Barrea said. “If she put them in one of them, and dropped them into the core . . .”

  “The domes are not designed for use in a fully flooded core. They would dissolve in minutes.” The Senior Engineer was emphatic. “This is a useless exercise. If they were placed in the core, they are both dead.” He stomped off in rigid indignation.

  I turned to Barrea. “Well?”

  “I’ll rig the suit myself.” He looked thoughtful. “I might be able to fit some addition shielding, gain more time for you.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Xonea caught my arm and kept me back as Barrea hurried off. “I will go.”

  I made a show of looking up and down his large body. “You’re too big. You need someone small, and fast.”

  His fingers tightened. “You will be killed.”

  I looked at his hand. “You’re making more bruises.”

  His fingers fell away from me. “I hurt you even when I am trying to keep you from harm.”

  “You’re a warrior,” I said. “Maybe you should start looking at some of the big, strong warrior women on this ship.” The despair in his eyes made me stop teasing him. “Look. What happened wasn’t your fault. Ktarka had us both pumped full of drugs.”

  “That is over,” Xonea said. “Perhaps in time you will forgive me.”

  “I already have, Captain.” I gave him a smile. “Now let me do this.”

  “Senior Healer?” Barrea yelled.

  Xonea nodded. I shouted back. “On my way!”

  It took time to
modify the Jorenian envirosuit, but at last I was enclosed in the bulky, heavily armored gear. Barrea dropped the helmet over my head as we approached the panel leading to the largest inspection portal.

  “Testing audio relay,” I heard him say.

  “Clear signal.” I turned and waved him off. “Go back to the monitoring station now. I’m going to open the panel.”

  He nodded, then put a hand on my shoulder. “Gods of Luck be with you, Senior Healer.”

  I put my thick glove over his fingers. “You’ll do just as well.”

  Once Barrea was back behind the heavily shielded monitoring equipment, I keyed the panel to open. The dark plas faceplate cut most of the glare from the raw energy streaming just beyond.

  “Entering access dome,” I said, and stepped through the panel. I activated the autonomous unit and was immediately enclosed in an oval ball of alloy. A maneuvering console appeared in front of me. Barrea had instructed me at length on how to use it. “Activating access sequence now.”

  “Your suit’s levels are reading in the high tolerance range even now, Senior Healer,” Barrea said over the audio as the dome’s systems powered up. “You will have but three or four minutes before radiation absorption begins.”

  “Okay. I’ll hurry.” I grabbed the control stick and eased it forward. “Entering power core.”

  It was a sheer drop at first into the seething amber fuel, until I remembered Barrea’s instructions and maneuvered the dome to ride the power currents to the center. The dome dipped and shuddered as it was bombarded, then found the central stream and floated slowly upward.

  “Senior Healer? Status?”

  “Inside the core,” I replied, my voice soft with wonder. Raw fuel swirled and undulated around me, like a fountain of liquid gold. “Barrea, it’s beautiful in here.”

  “Do you see them?”

  That jolted me back to reality. I scanned the enormous, twenty-eight-level tall storage unit. “No readings at lower position. Going to ride up the stream now.”

  I used the dome’s hull plates as resistance flaps and felt myself rising higher. I thought I saw something flicker toward the left of the dome. I scanned. Nothing appeared on my console.

  “Radiation levels are now at maximum,” Barrea said.

  The problem with radiation poisoning is you can’t feel it. “I’m okay, Barrea. Still rising. Halfway to top level.”

  I spotted something there: two indistinct, shadowy figures. As the dome drew level with them, I saw the perfectly preserved figures of Darea and Fasala.

  “Found them. The buffer pods are connected to the same transductor portal.” I peered through the golden power stream. “They’re breathing!”

  “Use the grappler units,” Barrea said.

  I jabbed a gloved finger at the keypad on the console and two large maintenance arms extended from the sides of the dome. The mechanical grapplers, or “hands,” opened and eased around the buffer pods.

  “Here we go.” I was getting sick to my stomach. Not a good sign. “Retrieving Darea and Fasala.”

  Carefully I eased the grapplers back. Fasala was unconscious, but I saw Darea staring at me, her eyes wide and frightened. Dried blood painted her throat with green streaks.

  “Senior Healer,” Barrea said. He sounded really worried now.

  “Got them. Returning to inspection portal. ”

  It was harder to get the dome’s controls to respond. The alloy that made up the small unit was beginning to degrade. I had maybe a minute, I decided as I shot up through the golden power stream. A docking clamp extended as I approached the open portal. With a final hard thrust of the control stick, I skimmed the dome over the falling fuel streams and bounced over to the clamp. We just made it.

  The bubble of alloy around me began to undulate. I extended the grapplers until both Darea and Fasala’s pods were inside the portal. The bottom of the dome unexpectedly dissolved, and I yelled as I grabbed on to the console. My gloves were slipping as I punched at the melting unit.

  “Barrea!” I shouted. “The dome is breaking up!”

  “Try to climb out onto the docking clamp! I’ll pull you in from here!”

  I didn’t climb as much as fall onto the docking clamp. Barrea closed it around me, and the boiling power around me pulled at my envirosuit.

  “Hurry, Barrea!”

  I swung up and into the inspection portal. With relief I saw the aperture close behind me. I fell to the deck, panting. Next to my helmet, Darea looked at me through the transparent capsule. She was crying. I put out a gloved hand, touching the surface of the pod. On the other side, Darea flattened her hand next to mine.

  Thank you, she mouthed.

  I managed to nod my head before I fell over.

  Acute radiation poisoning was no picnic. I woke up in Medical to find myself bent over, vomiting into a basin held by Squilyp. His membranes were gentle but firm as he supported my head. Once the spasms passed, I peered at him.

  “Will I live, do you think?” I asked.

  “With my luck? Yes,” he said as he set the basin aside.

  “Salo? Darea and Fasala?”

  “All doing well.” The Omorr wiped my face and eased me back on the berth. “You, however, are a madwoman who needs to be forcibly detained and treated with extensive psych-therapy.”

  “Love you too, Squid Lips.” I closed my eyes and fell asleep smiling.

  Days passed while I slept and healed. Apart from exhaustion, extreme nausea, and one other annoying side effect, I recovered.

  “At the energy absorption of one joule per kilogram,” Reever said, calculating the figures during his first visit, “you absorbed over two hundred fifty grey units.”

  That was more than three times the amount of ionizing radiation that would normally kill a human being.

  “I should glow in the dark, right?” I awkwardly rose to a sitting position. I still felt weak and disoriented. “Have you seen Darea and Fasala?” I was being kept in isolation until Squilyp decided I wasn’t a threat to my own recovery. Which might take several revolutions. Reever nodded. “How are they?”

  “The child suffered a high dose of radiation, but Resident Squilyp’s bone-marrow transplant appears to be a success. Darea endured less exposure, but Ktarka’s attack caused her to suffer a severe concussion as well. The Omorr tells me he expects both to fully recover.”

  “Salo?”

  “He frequently wishes he had been present when Ktarka admitted to attacking his ClanDaughter and murdering the others,” Reever said. “He was most expansive. I was not aware a Jorenian warrior could use an enemy’s internal organs to—”

  “They get pretty creative,” I agreed in a rush. “How was Barrea able to get Fasala and Darea out?”

  “The betrothal stone pendant Ktarka gave to you was a receiver, tuned to the voice-activated transmitter imbedded in the one she possessed. She used it to artificially disrupt your brain waves as well as trigger the sonic beam.”

  I wondered if she’d used it to signal the League, too. “How do you know all this?”

  “We found her design schematics on the personal terminal in your quarters. Barrea was able to use the device to release Darea and Fasala.”

  “Why were the schematics on my terminal?”

  “She transferred them, just before attacking Darea. Perhaps she planned to switch the pendants, and have you blamed for the murders.”

  “That bitch.”

  Reever simply nodded.

  “Well, it’s over.” I nestled back against my pillows. “I hope Xonea has done something to recognize Barrea’s efforts. The man saved all three of us.”

  “After the rescue, the Captain made Barrea Senior Engineer.”

  “Do you approve?” a deep voice asked, and we both turned to see Xonea standing at the door panel to my isolation room.

  “Absolutely,” I said. “He’s more than earned it.”

  Reever rose and looked from me to Xonea. “I will go now.”

  “No, stay
, Linguist Reever,” Xonea said. “I wanted to inform you we will be reaching the homeworld tomorrow.”

  “Joren? Already?” My voice squeaked. “I couldn’t have slept that long!”

  Xonea’s lips twitched. “You have. We have also risked taking a more direct route. The buffer was not designed to act as an energy storage unit; the ship requires a complete retrofitting.” He inspected me with casual interest. “Do you think you will feel well enough to join the sojourn team?”

  “I’ll start getting dressed now,” I said.

  Reever pushed me back on the berth. “We will see how her condition is tomorrow, Captain.”

  “Keep me advised. Cherijo”—his eyes crinkled—“thank you. Salo will remain in your debt forever. As will our House.” He squinted at the one remaining side effect of my exposure. “I like the change. It gives you a . . . distinguished air.” He bowed and departed before I could throw anything at him.

  My hand automatically went to the inch-wide, silver streak newly appeared in my black hair.

  Reever studied me thoughtfully. “I did not think you were particularly vain about your appearance.”

  “Shut up, Duncan.” I made a disgusted sound as I flopped back against my pillows. “I can’t believe this. I’m not even thirty yet!”

  “The effects of the radiation could have been far worse,” Reever said. “Your hair might have fallen out completely.”

  “Don’t try to make me feel better.” My fingers plucked at the edge of my berth linen. “That reminds me. Has Dhreen found a transport?”

  He nodded. “I have also signaled the ruling Houses, as you requested. We can have the succession ceremony when we land tomorrow.”

  I glared. “No one has screwed up and let it slip, have they?”

  Reever smiled. “No one would dare.”

  The Omorr reluctantly discharged me from Medical the next day.

  “You are still very weak,” he said as he finished the last of the million scans he felt compelled to perform. “You must rest, or you’ll be right back here stuck in a berth again.”

  I made a face. “Yes, Mommy.”