Stardoc

by S. L. Viehl

  I was mystified. “Why not?”

  He shrugged again. “Your world, not mine.”

  “You must pick up some . . . colorful clients.”

  “Oh, sure. Last trip I made was for a Terran I met here. Seems he had to transfer because of these three girlfriends. Only one was Terran, you see, and when she found out about the other two being non-Terrans, she tried to amputate his—” Those golden eyes squinted at my expression. “Maybe I’ll save that one for the jaunt.”

  “Yes, please.” I brushed some fragments of shattered plas from my jumper. My father would have been horrified to see me here. Correction. My father would have gone into full arrest, and expired on the spot.

  “You’ve got good reflexes,” Dhreen said.

  Yeah, I was a real pro at dodging things. Too bad I couldn’t find a way around my present quandary so I could stay on Terra.

  “Never been in a tavern before, have you?”

  I thought of Maggie, who had managed the last eighteen years of my home life. She had died a few months ago, of a disease my father and every other physician she’d seen couldn’t cure. My “maternal influencer,” as Dad called her, had once been a tavern waitress. She had been a great mom, although she’d never gotten rid of her saucy tavern waitress’ mouth. My father blamed Maggie for my irreverent humor and irritating speech patterns, among other things.

  “No.” I gazed around me without bothering to hide my disgust. “Slow Lazy Sax” indeed. The city code enforcers should run a full structure decontamination on this pigsty, I thought. Then again, maybe the filth was the only thing holding the plasteel walls together. “My first, and hopefully last, experience.”

  “You handled that scrapper like you knew what you were doing,” Dhreen said. I acknowledged the compliment with a smile. He continued with a casual air, “So, who are you running from?”

  My smile didn’t waver—did it? “I’m not running from anyone,” I lied. “Check out the data. I’m not wanted for questioning or detainment.” Yet.

  Dhreen didn’t press the issue.

  “Look, Doc, I’m firing the engines in exactly four stanhours. You want space, you got it. Just don’t change your mind halfway to K-2. I’m not back-jaunting if you get chilled appendages.”

  “Cold feet,” I corrected him while mentally reviewing what I could accomplish in the short interval before launch. If I drove like a madwoman, and no one tried to stop me, I would just make it. “That’s fine.” A thought occurred to me. “How many other passengers will be on this flight?”

  “Just you and me, Doc.”

  Just me and him? Great. Just great.

  Dhreen’s thin lips quirked. “Don’t get your scanners in overload. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  I had good reason to be cautious. Like everyone, I’d heard the horror stories about unsuspecting passengers being abducted and sold off to slavers in distant sectors. Still, even independent shuttle pilots were required to put up guarantee collateral to earn trade routes from Terra. It took hefty credits, too. A lot more than Dhreen could earn by selling a dozen young Terran females.

  Looking at him, my instincts told me he was harmless. Should Dhreen forget to behave himself, however, I could quickly disable him—another of Maggie’s legacies.

  I’ll only have to find out where his genitalia are located, I thought. If he has any of the external variety, that is.

  The Oenrallian broke into my musings when he asked, “What’s your cargo look like?”

  “It’s below the standard weight limits. Some personal belongings, medical gear, and a cat.”

  “A cat?” Dhreen frowned. “Legal or illegal? Wait”—he held up his hand—“Don’t tell me. Just put the thing in a carrier, and make sure it doesn’t get loose.”

  “I will. Thank you, Captain Dhreen.”

  “Dhreen, Doc. Just Dhreen.” He lifted his drink in another mocking salute. “See you at Transport in four hours.”

  “Where, exactly, will your ship be?”

  Dhreen’s thick eyebrows rose.

  “Launch Position S-17. Can’t miss her. She’s the ugliest hunk of spaceware in dock.”

  Days before I had found Dhreen, I’d begun to quietly move my possessions out of my father’s house. Now all I had to do was get Jenner and my last case, retrieve and load my hidden cache into my glidecar, and get down to Transport.

  Piece of cake.

  I trotted back to the hoverlot where I’d left my glidecar. Since it was still there, I paid the attendant the last half of the substantial bribe I’d promised him for watching it.

  “Zap back quick, Fem,” he said, and grinned. Come back soon. I didn’t bother to tell him that I’d never come back here—or anywhere else on Terra.

  No, I just smiled back, waved, and hit the accelerator. Hard.

  Dad had commissioned a palatial estate just outside the city, after the New Angeles Corps of Engineers had permanently stabilized the San Andreas fault. I’d been born on the grounds and had lived there ever since.

  The house itself was four stories and thirty thousand square feet of marble and glass that rivaled the Allied League Headquarters in Paris. Architectural students often came out to study the unique symmetry of the roof gables. Furnishings and decor were changed at least twice a year, and exclusive designers regularly made tour appointments so they could photoscan and copy the interior for their clients.

  I hated it.

  Once I returned from the tavern, it took only moments to collect my things from the estate. Leaving the mansion was not quite as simple. The drone staff were ever-vigilant, and one intercepted me as I was sneaking Jenner out through the side entrance panel.

  “Dr. Cherijo.” The automated housekeeper slid to a stop behind me. “Inquiry?”

  “Proceed,” I said, trying to sound like Dad when he was in a hurry.

  “Reason Jenner is being removed?”

  “Routine veterinarian treatment,” I lied, hiding the case behind my legs.

  The housekeeper couldn’t sense deception by intonation, as far as I knew, but it didn’t withdraw. “Item is not annotated on the daily household schedule.”

  “An emergency,” I said, improvising quickly. “Non-life-threatening,” I added for good measure, just in case the drone became too helpful and volunteered to chauffeur me.

  “Understood. Expected time of return?”

  “A few hours, maybe more.”

  “Will you require assistance?”

  “No.” I peered at the drone’s display and saw the entry being saved. “You may erase this entry.”

  “Last command disregarded. Dr. Joseph ordered staff record all of Dr. Cherijo’s activities.”

  Yeah, I bet he had. Dad was nothing if not eternally obsessed with my activities.

  “Confirmed. I’m leaving now. Tell my father—” I stopped. Bad move. The drone would question the message, since I was supposed to return before Dad. “Never mind.”

  “Acknowledged, Dr. Cherijo.”

  From the house I drove like a madwoman to my office. There I retrieved my cache of cases from the lower-level storage facility. Ducking a few curious glances while I used the hover lifts, I loaded up everything that was important to me.

  It wasn’t much, I thought, looking at the pathetic little pile, then at Jenner’s carrier. I had packed more when I went to Asia for spring break during my Medtech freshman year.

  I slammed down the hatch and broke speed records getting to Main New Angeles Transport. No fatalities, but I did put a good dent in my passenger panel when I glanced off the front thruster of a glidetaxi. I even learned a few phrases they never taught in Medtech, courtesy of the extremely irate cabbie.

  Less than four hours after I’d entered the tavern, I stood in front of the starshuttle Bestshot. I put my cases down and rubbed a hand over my eyes, just to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

  “That is a starshuttle?”

  Dhreen’s ship resembled a refuse heap. Okay, maybe I was being uncharitable. An or
ganized refuse heap.

  In comparison to the streamlined vessels crowding the shuttle docks, the Bestshot was a towering mass of mismatched alloys and energy-scarred panels. The viewports were covered with streaks of reentry carbon. Something was rattling and sparking beneath the booster section. Something that looked important. I spotted the bottom half of the Oenrallian hanging out of the discharge vent of what could have been the starboard engine, or a recycled glidebus chassis. Or both.

  “Dhreen?” I called out as I marched over.

  His bright head popped up, and he waved a greasy arm at me. “Jump in, Doc, I’ll join you in a blip.”

  This is what happens when you dump your entire life and go racing off to the other end of the galaxy, an inner voice intoned with dark glee. You end up on a ship called the Bestshot.

  I located the entrance ramp, squared my shoulders, and entered the shuttle. The main cabin inside appeared little better than the exterior. The decor was basic junk. A conglomeration of navigation and control equipment crowded the deck, most of it salvage goods. The scent of burnt wiring lingered. I wondered if Dhreen was serious about piloting this heap through fourteen light-years of unforgiving space.

  “She won’t win any appearance competitions,” said a voice behind me, and I glanced back. Dhreen patted an external sensor display. “But she’s stable, dependable, and delivers me where I’m routed.” A grin appeared as he noted my expression. “In the same basic physical condition I started.”

  “That’s reassuring.” No, it wasn’t. I indicated my cases and animal carrier. “Where can I secure my stuff?”

  “I’ll show you to your quarters.”

  Dhreen led me through an untidy gauntlet of tangled cables and various unidentifiable apparatus to the back of the shuttle. With a grunt and a push, he opened a door to a small, tidier section. My spirits began to elevate an inch or two. There were comfortable-looking rest slings positioned above the lower deck, which provided tables, chairs, and even a small viewport. It even smelled clean.

  “Home for the next week, Doc.” He pointed to a corner sectioned off by hastily rigged plaspanels with inhibitor webs to keep something small confined. “I fixed up a space for you to put your cat.”

  Jenner would loathe it. “That was nice of you.”

  “Just keep it out of the main cabin. You know how to strap in before we take off?”

  I nodded. Now was not the time to mention I’d only been on one starshuttle in my entire life. “You’d better secure your animal’s carrier, too,” Dhreen said. “Use the rigging on that wall over there.”

  At this reminder I put down my cases and peered into the carrier. Huge eyes glared back at me. Uh-oh, now I was in for it. I felt Dhreen hovering behind my shoulder.

  “Anything else I need to do?” I asked.

  “No, unless you’re going to change your mind.”

  I straightened, and gave him my best imitation of my dad’s normal demeanor. A blast-freeze unit on rollers, with lips, nose, eyes, and some hair added. That was Dad.

  “Thank you for your concern, Dhreen, but I’m absolutely certain of my decision.” Even to my own ears, I sounded authoritative.

  “Well said.” Was that a smirk of respect, or amusement? “I’ll leave you to settle in.” With that, Dhreen withdrew.

  I waited until the door closed before I sagged into a chair, and ran a hand over my perspiring face. I wasn’t certain of anything.

  At that moment Jenner made his presence known from the depths of the carrier. It was a single yowl of feline indignation blended with imperious command.

  Let me out!

  “Sorry, pal.” I released the panel latch and offered a comforting hand, which was summarily ignored. My cat stalked from the carrier, tail high and head erect. Sleek and well shaped, His Royal Highness undulated with each step, silvery fur bristling.

  Hell hath no fury like a confined feline.

  “Come on.”

  I scooped him up and placed him in the makeshift space Dhreen had prepared. He sniffed at the plaspanels, and eyed the distance an escape attempt would require him to jump. After he tested the web that prevented such a feat with one paw, he regarded me with irate blue eyes.

  You’ve got to be kidding.

  “Don’t start,” I said, and held out a peace offering of dried mackerel bits. He ignored them, and me, and crossed to the farthest corner. Presenting his back to me, he began to sulk.

  Jenner and I had been together since I’d found him eight years ago. Maggie and I had gone out for a rare shopping trip, and I’d spied the wet, bedraggled kitten crouched in a gutter. When I had held out a hand to him, he hadn’t cringed away, as I’d expected. Instead he’d pulled himself up into a regal pose of absolute disdain.

  You may now rescue me, he’d seemed to convey.

  “What in God’s name is that?” had been Maggie’s reaction to the dripping ball of fur cradled against my chest.

  “It’s a cat.”

  “I’ll signal Area Animal Control.” Maggie had wrinkled her nose, then caught my reaction and shook her head. “Oh, no, kiddo, you can’t bring that into the old man’s house.”

  At the time I was in my third phase at Medtech, and when I wasn’t studying, I was listening to Dad lecture me at length about his cases. Other than that, I ate and slept. That was my life.

  “I’m taking him home,” I’d said.

  “Joey—”

  I’d gazed at her once, the way my father did when she got overly verbal. That was all it took.

  Later, I was informed by our vet that Jenner was a Tibetan temple cat, a rare breed with royal bloodlines. That was the only thing that impressed my father, who reluctantly allowed me to keep him.

  “At least,” he’d said with faint distaste, “it is not a dog.”

  At the same time my new kitten had stared back at the great Joseph Grey Veil without blinking, the hair along his neck rising stiffly. He’d even hissed.

  I’d lost my heart to Jenner on the spot. Since Maggie died, he was the only friend I had left.

  “Go ahead and pout,” I told him. “You’ll get hungry, eventually. Then what are you going to do, Your Majesty?”

  Jenner shot me a brief look that promised extensive, painful retribution.

  “I’m sorry.” I sighed, crouching down next to the plaspanels. “I know this wasn’t your idea. But I need you, pal.”

  Jenner pondered this for a moment, and decided not to argue with me. He rose, stretched gracefully, and padded over to me. Planting himself next to the wall, he lifted his chin.

  You may now beg forgiveness.

  I was careful not to laugh—Jenner had definite ideas about who was the boss, and it wasn’t me. It took two handfuls of dehydrated fish treats and much scratching and stroking, but he finally calmed down and settled in for a nap. I wondered what he was thinking as he blinked his lapis eyes closed.

  Probably scheming how to acquire a larger portion of treats next time, I decided.

  As for me, despite my affirmation to Dhreen, I wondered if I could really go through with this—transferring to an alien world so far from everything I knew. I had no idea how I would be employed by the FreeClinic. The contract I’d signed had no specific duties outlined other than “medical doctor.” Those two words covered a lot of territory.

  The alternatives? There were none.

  “Hey, Doc,” Dhreen’s voice startled me. I looked over at the wall display and saw his face on the screen. “Strap in—we’re preparing to launch.” The display went blank, and I heard the engines rumble into life. Jenner woke up as I slipped him back into the carrier, and objected loudly as I secured it to the wall. Then I strapped myself in. My fingers felt numb, and trembled more than I liked.

  “I’m going to love this,” I said out loud as I tightened my harness. Sure, my inner voice agreed. About as much as finding out what your father’s been doing for the last thirty years.

  How had I gotten into this situation? So many decisions to be made,
risks to be taken. All by me, whose life had previously been planned out to the minute. And I hadn’t even done the planning.

  My father had always decided everything: what I did, where I went, and who I saw. As a result, I had studied to be a surgeon. I had gone to Medtech. I’d never had friends.

  After I’d completed my training courses, Dad had me intern in the busiest trauma center on the New West Coast. The first months had been a frantic blur. Snarling senior residents. Endless screens of diagnostic theory. Double shifts in assessment, pre-op, and surgery. When I wasn’t working, I was nearly comatose.

  “Sure, she’ll make one hell of a surgeon,” I recalled Maggie once snapped at my father, startling me from a doze I’d fallen in over dinner. “If you don’t kill her first.”

  I survived. I didn’t dare do anything else. The few doubts I’d had eventually evaporated. True, dedicating my life to medicine had been Dad’s idea, not mine. In spite of that, each time I held a lascalpel in my fingers, it became more obvious. My colleagues and superiors agreed: I was born to be a surgeon.

  I knew exactly what they’d say when they learned of my transfer.

  “I never knew Grey Veil was a simpleton.”

  “An absolute waste of a promising career.”

  “Has she gone completely insane?”

  The lure of the unknown held no attraction for Terrans. Only incompetents or reckless adventurers transferred from the homeworld. What sensible Terran physician would trade a profitable career for the perils lurking on all those disgusting alien worlds?

  Well, here I was.

  I didn’t even know why I had been accepted for transfer. I had no alien experience, and I’d never shuttled past Luna Colony before.

  Then again, rumors about the shortage of medical professionals on the border indicated it was a serious problem. The generous transfer incentives were being completely ignored. There was even some talk going around about a possible Conscription Act by League Worlds. I suspected PQSGO was so desperate, they’d take anyone who knew which end of a suture laser to point at the patient.