Stardoc

by S. L. Viehl

  “Beautiful,” a deep voice said next to my ear. I yelped and nearly jumped out of my skin. Jorenian males had this pesky ability to be absolutely soundless whenever they wanted.

  “Don’t do that!” I said. Kao smiled at me, and my irritation shrank a few degrees. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “I know,” he said. “I have been following you since you entered the gallery, and twice called your name.”

  Had I been that lost in thought? “I thought you were going to signal me when you got off work,” I said.

  “I attempted to. You were not in your quarters.” He studied my face. “You are distressed.”

  “Are Jorenians capable of telepathy?”

  “Empathy is not uncommon among those who Choose,” Kao said. He gave me this significant look, then folded my hand in his. “Walk with me.”

  We made our way down the long hall, and Kao quietly commented on the artworks we passed. I didn’t concentrate on the compositions or even what he said. It was soothing just to be with him, to hear the deep music of his voice. At last we stopped at an observation dome, where the entire night sky of K-2 sparkled above us in a glittering display of moons and stars.

  Kao turned me to face him, and cupped my shoulder with one large hand. “Tell me about what has happened.”

  I didn’t want to talk about Maggie, or the tense moments with the Binder. Instead I found myself describing the unpleasant encounter with Harold Springfield.

  “Cherijo, did he harm you?”

  Something in Kao’s voice made me look up. My eyes widened. His expression was ominously still.

  “Of course not.” Why was he acting like this? I knew Jorenians didn’t appreciate someone hurting their relatives, but I wasn’t part of the family. “He never laid a hand on me, Kao. Even if he had, I could have handled him.”

  He ignored that. “Did he threaten you?”

  Evidently I did qualify for the same ferocious protection. “No.” As much as I disliked Kyle’s father, I didn’t want to see him in a lot of small pieces all over the colony. “He didn’t do anything to me. Stop it.”

  “I know this man,” Kao said, still looking every inch the warrior bent on a rampage. “He has a careless mouth.”

  “He was just being Terran.” Which was becoming a universal synonym for bigoted idiot, I thought sadly.

  The Jorenian’s tense frame relaxed. “There are many differences between our people,” he said, smoothing his palm over my cheek. “Do you regret being associated with me?”

  “No.” Until that moment I hadn’t given a lot of thought to certain aspects of our relationship. Still, I wasn’t ashamed of being involved with him. “I don’t care what anyone says about us.”

  “I can never be Terran, Healer.”

  We belonged to two different species. So what? “I’ll never be Jorenian.” I shrugged. “Springfield is a jerk, Terra is welcome to him.”

  “Tell me what is in your heart.”

  I looked up into his strong, beautiful face. How could I even describe how I felt? When I was with Kao, everything else in my life seemed to fade away. I was deeply involved with a blue-skinned alien man, and I didn’t even know how that had happened. It just occurred to me that it had.

  There were problems, I reminded myself. “Tell me, how many times have we been together in the past two weeks?”

  “Let me think,” he said, pretending not to know. Jorenians had incredible recall. “Four?”

  “Five times, and you know it. Twice I had to leave you because of an emergency at the facility.”

  “I do not expect you to sacrifice healing for me,” he said. “As I recall, once I had to leave your company for an unexpected change in the flight schedule.”

  “There will be more emergencies,” I said.

  “We both of us have occupations which demand much of our time.”

  His open, confident manner had me blurting out, “You want more than just my time, Kao Torin.”

  One blue finger traced the line between my brows. “Yes. I do.”

  “Okay.” I took a gulp of air. “So do I.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Not exactly.” His keen eyes made me grimace. “What if we can’t fulfill—if I can’t—” I made a frustrated gesture. “I don’t know what the term is in your culture. In mine, it is a relationship. What if we can’t make this work? What if my job demands more of my time than you’d like? What if—”

  “What if seems to preface most of your worries,” Kao said. “I can present similar concerns. What if I am permanently consigned to an inter-sector flight run? What if I am injured in a shuttle crash? What if I am exposed to HydroTyrannial Radiation and turn a disagreeable shade of yellow-green?”

  I made a disgusted sound, and turned away to stare at the jewel-rich darkness above me.

  “Forgive me.” Kao gently pressed me back against his large frame. Even in my aggravation, my body responded to the proximity of his. He was big, warm, and alive. His palms began a gentle stroking motion over my shoulders. It gave me a sense of being sheltered, cherished.

  It also made sweat bead along my hairline.

  “On my world, there is a philosophy we learn as children: The path may change swiftly. Live in the now.” Kao’s hand moved down the untidy cable of my braid. “There are no guarantees in existence, Cherijo. Not even if you had Chosen—if you had a relationship with another Terran.”

  Another Terran. Who? Duncan Reever? Now, there was a distinct impossibility. “So we take a chance on the future?”

  “We take the now. Tomorrow—that will come.”

  “I know how serious it is for a Jorenian to Choose,” I told him. “It means forever.”

  His hands stilled. “You have been educating yourself on my culture.”

  “Your HouseClans were founded on the ritual of Choice.” I turned to face him, feeling panicky now. “If you Choose me, you’re stuck with me, for life. That’s a long time, Kao. Then there’s the other minor problem with getting bonded. Like packing up everything and moving to Joren.”

  “We are not bonded,” Kao said.

  I yanked my braid from his grasp. “You’re thinking about Choosing me.” I threw down the statement like a dare.

  “Yes.”

  “If you do that, you can’t change your mind. You’ll have to bond with me.”

  “Of course,” Kao said. “Someday.”

  “Someday?” I said. That wasn’t in the data I’d read about my boyfriend’s culture. There was a definite, short time frame involved in the progression from Choosing to bonding on Joren.

  “Cherijo, I respect HouseClan traditions. Indeed, I hold them close to my heart. Yet I have journeyed through the stars for many revolutions. Were you a Jorenian female”—Kao made a small gesture I’d learned meant mild exasperation—“my ClanParents would be constructing a ceremonial chamber and sending a bond proclamation to every Torin within signal range.”

  “But I’m not a Jorenian female,” I said. “Does that mean your parents will hate me?”

  Kao chuckled. “No, my heart. The fact that you are Terran will not alter their happiness for us.”

  “Then, I don’t see what difference it makes.”

  “Terran culture has its share of customs regarding these matters. Do you think I would demand you follow the practices of my world and ignore your own?”

  I was slow, but it finally dawned on me. “You mean, if you Choose me, you don’t expect me to bond with you right away?”

  “Not unless you are willing, and the time is correct for you.” Kao released a sigh at my obvious disbelief. “Cherijo, how could you think me so uncompromising?”

  I still wasn’t entirely convinced. “You’re sure you’d be willing to wait?”

  “Yes,” Kao said. “I could not honor you without honoring your beliefs, your work. Even when at times it seems there are a thousand and one demands upon you.”

  Two thousand and one, I thought wryly. “That won’t change.�
�

  “It is part of what you are. A strong, dedicated, compassionate healer.” Kao pressed his lips upon my forehead, and his arms came up around me. God, it felt wonderful when he held me like that. “Believe in what I say.”

  “I’m sorry. I do.” I nuzzled the lower vault of his chest. “I want to be with you, Kao.”

  “I want to be a part of you, Cherijo. I want to wake with you upon each star rising, I want to sleep with you, like this. I will wait for all those things. For both of us.” His eyes gleamed. “I would wait an eternity for you.”

  “I don’t think it will take that long,” I said as I cuddled against him. “As long as Dr. Mayer doesn’t personally plan my schedule for the next thirty years, that is.”

  “There is another matter I would discuss with you,” Kao said as he worked my hair from the long braid, and spread it free. His fingers were magic. He breathed in the fragrance of the cleanser I used, and a deep sound rumbled under my cheek. “Terrans do not require a bonding ceremony to know one another intimately. Do they?”

  “Oh.” I tried not to sound like an idiot. I failed. “Terrans generally—I mean, it’s accepted that—” I cringed. I was babbling. I never babble. “Uh—no. Why?”

  “In this matter, Cherijo,” he said as he lifted my chin, “I do not wish to wait an eternity.”

  Kao kissed me. How can I describe it? It was stimulating, exciting . . . no. It demolished me. I stopped breathing, stopped thinking, and just held on.

  I never knew kissing could be such a fierce, prolonged, arousing activity. It was sort of like being caught in a cardiac stimulator set on continuous biofeed. My nerves sizzled as his mouth and tongue moved over mine. He tasted exotic, dark, and delicious.

  When he lifted his head and our lips parted, I was much more experienced on the subject. I was also breathless, clutching him with tight, numb hands, my limbs trembling, my blood roaring through my veins.

  “Okay,” I managed to gasp out. “How about now?”

  “Not yet. You are not ready.” My pained expression made him chuckle. “Soon, I promise. When we are both decided.”

  I began to ask him exactly what I was supposed to decide. A group of students chose that moment to enter the observation dome, and we were forced to leave. Kao escorted me to my living quarters, where he embraced me once more.

  If women back on Terra ever learned how well Jorenian males kiss, the Genetic Exclusivity Act, along with the World Government, would be overthrown in a week. I would have drawn him into my rooms, but he stepped back.

  “Soon,” he said, before making that elegant farewell gesture and turning away. The way he looked back at me over his shoulder made me swallow, hard. “Think of me.”

  From the way my nerves were humming, I didn’t have much choice.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Confrontations

  The next rotation’s shift was busy enough to keep me from brooding about Maggie, my father, and even Kao. I treated the usual routine cases of infection, injury, and other complaints. Hectic, but soothing in its own way.

  When I came off my shift, Jenner was waiting for me, and plaintively indicated he’d had enough of our quarters for one day. At the same time, my display panel flashed.

  “Let me get this first, pal,” I said. When Joseph Grey Veil’s face appeared, I felt an eerie sense of fatalism.

  This was going to get ugly.

  “Hello, Dad.” I looked at him and tried to imagine him with Maggie. Couldn’t do it.

  My father never wasted time when he had a specific purpose. “There are matters I must discuss with you, Cherijo.”

  There was only one thing that mattered to him. “I’m not returning to Terra.”

  Joseph Grey Veil’s dignity never wavered. “It is time I gave you certain information, Cherijo. Information that will alter your decision.”

  I sat down and pulled Jenner into my lap. He glared at the image of his nemesis while I stroked his pelt. “Nothing you say is going to—”

  “More than thirty years ago, I made a discovery,” my father said. “During my work with cellular replication processes.”

  I didn’t need this again. “I’ve listened to all the stories, Dad. Believe me, I have them memorized.”

  “Please have the courtesy to listen without interruption.” I reigned in a sigh. “It was during the initial trials with cloned organs that I found a successful method to identify and modify DNA strands in human beings.”

  I stiffened, and Jenner jumped from my lap. My cat made a sound that indicated he, for one, had heard enough.

  “A method that would have been declared unethical, had I made it known to the medical profession at large.”

  My God, I thought. He was going to tell me. About everything. Here and now.

  “It was necessary to forgo the usual manner in which I conducted my experiments, and explore this new method in secrecy. I set up my laboratory in a concealed location. A few dedicated subordinates volunteered to assist with my work.”

  I rose from my chair. “This is all very fascinating, but I just remembered I have to—”

  “Sit down!” he said. Out of lifelong habit, I obeyed. “I am your parent. You will hear what I have to say.”

  “Fine.” I could be dignified, too. “Go on.”

  “Given my reputation and body of work in the past, what I must tell you may seem at first reprehensible.”

  Reprehensible? I thought. No, Dad, not you. Say it isn’t so.

  “I could not, however, turn from what stood to be the next step in the evolution of mankind.”

  Naturally. Dad wouldn’t have worked on the next step in something like, say, hangnail control.

  “I spent the subsequent years redesigning Terran physiology. I won’t detail the specifics, but in the end I was successful.”

  “You redesigned a human being.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I could, Cherijo.” He permitted himself a haughty smile. “I implanted my own DNA in a fertilized ovum, then performed the genetic augmentations. It was a resounding success. The subject developed without flaw in an artificial embryonic chamber.”

  All this time, I realized, I’d been hoping it was just someone’s idea of a sick joke. It wasn’t. “How . . . ingenious of you.”

  “The enhancements I made on the subject’s DNA sequence translated my theories into fact.”

  I felt nauseous. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “You are that subject, Cherijo.”

  I wasn’t clever enough to manufacture a reaction for his benefit. Over fourteen light-years, we stared at each other. Father and daughter. Scientist and experiment.

  “You knew before you left Terra,” he said. I nodded. “I was made aware, of course, that certain materials had been removed from the lab. It was only logical to assume you had taken them.” I didn’t bother to correct him.

  “I have been monitoring your progress since your conception. You have fulfilled every expectation and in most categories exceeded them.”

  My hands curled into fists. “Glad I made you happy.” “You can understand now why you must return to Terra.”

  No, but I had a whole new understanding of patricide. “I beg your pardon?”

  “My research cannot continue until you return,” he said. “You have an undeniable responsibility.”

  His lack of emotion still managed to amaze me. Me, the daughter who was nothing more than a glorified culture dish to him. “Is that it?”

  “That is all I have to say.”

  “Good. Now it’s my turn.” He nodded regally. “How could you? How could you do this?” He opened his mouth to reply, but I held up a hand. “Never mind, you already answered that one. You even named me after the experiment. Comprehensive Human Enhancement Research, ID: ‘J’ Organism. C.H.E.R.I.J.O.”

  “An acronym seemed appropriate.”

  “And here all this time I’d thought you’d searched through the old family tre
e for a sentimental name to give your daughter.”

  “You may change your name, if you like.”

  “I think there’s been quite enough changing of things in regard to me, thank you,” I said. “You broke some serious statutes to do it, too. Still, why let a silly thing like world law mess up your tests?”

  “Legislation can be changed,” was his smug rebuttal.

  “Yes, well, you and your gang of Genetic Exclusivists were very effective once. Why not again?”

  “Once the specific applications are presented—”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” I said. “The same legislation you orchestrated denied you the scientific freedom to openly pursue your experiment.” I paused as something occurred to me. “Wait a minute. I get it. You were making sure no one else could experiment on human DNA. It was illegal. The field would be clear for you!” I laughed, appalled. “God, Dad, you make Machiavelli look scrupulous!”

  “That is irrelevant,” he said. “If I must continue to conceal the project in order to protect my work, I will. It will not prevent the research from proceeding.”

  “How moral of you,” I said. “But we won’t debate that now. I can’t deny I exist because of your work, how can I? It’s a shame you didn’t program me with blind obedience along with the rest of the tinkering you did.”

  “Your consent and active participation was never integral to the experiment. I considered it counterproductive, in fact.”

  God, he had an ego the size of a League Troop Freighter. “Do you even know what you’ve done?” I expelled a choppy breath. “I never demanded you love me. Not once. But you acted the part of my father, for research purposes. For my entire life!”

  “It was necessary—”

  “It was monstrous!”

  “You do not understand.”

  “No.” Thank God, I didn’t. I hoped I never would.

  “Cherijo, the fate of our species rests in your hands. Once the advances I’ve made are known, there is no limit to what we can do for human beings.”

  It all came down to that. My father might unlock the secrets of life itself, but only Terrans would benefit. If I had ever entertained the idea of going back, it was gone forever now.

  “I won’t be your lab specimen.”