by S. L. Viehl
“It was incredible.” I briefly described the program.
“I have my home in that province. The sea has always fascinated me. It is the reason I’ve spent most of my journey out here, exploring the stars.” The captain smiled, then added, “They are both vast, powerful, full of mystery.”
“I was surprised at how much your world reminded me of Terra, where my people originate.” I went on to praise the ship’s technology for a few moments while I prepared two servers of the Jorenian iced fruit beverage I had grown fond of.
“You’re not here to talk about the environome technology, I gather,” I said at last as I handed him his drink. “Is there a problem?”
Polite but practical, he made a fluid gesture and got directly to the real reason for his visit. “I must inform you that our government has decided to sever all relations with the League, effective immediately.”
“All relations?” My server slipped from my fingers, and I had to make an awkward grab for it. That was a lot worse than a broken treaty.
“I, too, found it startling news, but it is done. Jorenians throughout League systems have been recalled.”
“What will this mean for your people?”
He smiled wearily. “A great deal of change.” He saw the strain I felt, and added, “You must not in any way consider yourself personally responsible for the rift.”
I made a short, bitter sound. “I’m the reason it occurred, aren’t I?”
“The events, Healer, not you, forced this decision. My people have very strong traditions. We do not adjust our beliefs to suit the greed of an already avaricious alliance.”
“But to sever all relations simply because they tried to deport me against my will—”
“The League has done more than insult a Chosen of our House. They have discarded the remnants of what honor they once possessed.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I must tell you what it will mean. Jorenian ships will be hunted, detained, and searched. Your life will be at risk if you remain a member of our crew.” He frowned. “I can find another non-League world, if you wish, and put you off the ship.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’d rather be with HouseClan Torin.”
“Senior Healer Tonetka has been most emphatic to appoint you as her successor.” Pnor gave me a wry glance. Emphatic was apparently putting it mildly. “Fortunately for me, I am in complete agreement.”
“Then, this is where I belong, Captain.”
He smiled, delighted, and stood. “As Commander of this vessel, I formally accept and welcome you as a member of the crew. Thank you, Healer.” He made a gesture of relief. “My crew will also be gratified to know they will not have to stage a mutiny. I believe that was the plan, in the event I attempted to put you off on a non-League world.”
We laughed together at that, then Captain Pnor bid me farewell and departed. Tired from my swim, Reever’s latest link, and now this newest twist to my situation, I took a sleep interval.
I dreamed of Maggie.
We were back on Terra. Maggie was walking beside me as we made a haphazard tour of taverns and dock suppliers who offered everything from counterfeit credit profiles to illegal synnarcotics.
This is odd, I thought in a fuzzy, half-aware lethargy. Maggie would have never taken me near these places when she was alive.
“You’re not paying attention.” Maggie took my arm in hers.
“Oh.” I breathed in the scent of exhaust, sweat, and a curious musky perfume. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“You’ve got to begin again.”
“Uh-hum.” I was fascinated by the sight of two drones who had been refurbished with an odd selection of accessories. Finally I realized they were soliciting the crowd for sex partners, and laughter bubbled out of me. “God, look at that. Sexdrones. I’ve never actually seen one of them before.”
“You don’t seem too worried about it,” Maggie said with an acrid smile. She was just as abrasive as she had been when she was alive. “Well, start worrying, kid.”
“Why?” I was serene as I skirted a pair of dockworkers slashing at each other with short, bloody daggers. “This is just a dream, right?”
“No, baby girl, this is a subliminal memory I planted in your mind when you listened to my ‘if-I’m-dead’ disc.”
I swiveled my head around, emerging from my euphoric haze at last. “You didn’t.”
“I sure did.”
I came to a stop. “Maggie! How could you?”
“It’s for the best, sweetie. What I’m about to say was already on the disc, you just forgot what you heard. Now you’re remembering. I set it to trigger a few weeks after the first time your heart stops.”
“Why would it depend on that?”
“Because after that you would know you’re not human.”
“I am.” I stuck out my lower lip like a child. “I’m as human as you are.”
Maggie sighed, and pulled me into a tavern she once worked in. She yelled at the tending drone to bring us bitterale and pushed me into a chair.
“Damn, you’re stubborn. Stop arguing with me.” Maggie waved away the drone and thrust a plas server of bitterale into my hand. “Drink.”
“I hate syntoxicants,” I said.
“Drink it or I’ll pour it down your throat myself.”
I took a sip and made a face. Maggie swigged half the contents of hers with a few gulps and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I know I’ll hate being dead.” She sighed wistfully. “Nothing to drink and nowhere to go.”
“This dream is ridiculous,” I said to myself. “I’ve got to wake up.”
“Not until you recall and accept what I stored in that smart-ass brain of yours. Got it?”
Had I ever said I’d loved this woman? I must have been out of my mind. To keep from snapping back, I took another sip of the revolting bitterale she’d pressed on me. It didn’t taste any better.
“Your father discovered he could not repeat the process once he had created you. It’s important for you to know that. You are the tenth and only one who was viable. What he doesn’t know is why.”
I looked up and understood at last. “You,” I said. “You’re the reason why I succeeded and the others failed. You did something.”
Maggie smiled slowly, nodding as she finished her drink.
“You’re not just an ex-waitress hired companion, are you?” I asked.
“Bingo.”
“You said you had access to my father’s experiment. Did he tell you to send the package to me?”
“I always said you were a bright kid.”
I slammed down the server. “Why? Why did you set me up for him?”
“It suited me to go along with his next stage in the experiment.”
“Suited you,” I said in disbelief. “My God, Maggie, I had just buried you! Do you know what it was like losing you? Finding out what he had done to me?”
“I know.”
“You and Dad both played me like a game. I’ve never mattered to either of you.”
“That’s not true.” Maggie shook her head. “I was dying, Joey. I didn’t have enough time to finish the work I started.”
“What work?”
“You’ll understand everything, in time.”
“Tell me now.”
“Listen to me. Store it in memory for future reference. You are not human. Joseph Grey Veil may believe he’s created you, but he didn’t. Not entirely. You must never allow yourself to fall under his influence again.” She said some other things that barely registered on my consciousness. “When the time comes, you will remember. That’s all now. Time to wake up.”
I resisted the sudden urge to break from the dream and instead reached across the table and grabbed her hands.
“Maggie,” I said. “Who are you?”
She began to change in front of my eyes. The tough-lined face softened, her hair darkened, and her skin tone glowed. It was like looking into a di
storted mirror. “Someone you loved. Someone you trusted. Someone like you, Joey.”
I woke up with the covers knotted in my fists, my body as taut as a lasutured seam. Maggie’s last words still rang in my head.
“Someone like you.”
Why did it sound like a prayer—and a curse?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Calls from Home
I discovered it would be months before we reached Joren. Our journey would also take us through territory the crew of the Sunlace had never explored. During a shared meal interval, Xonea and Dhreen both talked about the convoluted route and the equally involved reasons for following it.
“We transition through different dimensions, then resurface in conventional space. Some areas we have traveled before, but others—” Xonea made a quick gesture. “It will be an opportunity to survey uncharted systems.”
“Okay.” I considered this as I chewed, then swallowed and asked, “But wouldn’t it be safer to get out of League space and transition ourselves straight to Joren as fast as we can?”
“Our technology has some limits,” Xonea said. “It is not possible for the ship to remain in transition indefinitely.”
Dhreen was more blunt. “The captain isn’t going to take any chances by traveling the usual routes, either.” He ignored Xonea’s warning frown. “He knows the mercenaries will set up surveillance posts in those systems.”
“So we have to fly around half the damn universe just to dodge the League?” I asked, exasperated.
“Pilot Dhreen exaggerates, Healer,” Xonea said to me.
“Pilot Torin doesn’t know the League like I do,” Dhreen said.
“You are alarming her, Dhreen.”
“It’s better than handing her a lot of waste, Xonea.”
Both men by now were on their feet and glaring at each other. I sighed, put down my fork, got up, and stepped between them.
“Okay, boys, settle down, or I’ll have to send you to your quarters to cool off.” I looked from Dhreen to Xonea. “I’m not kidding.”
“Sure, Doc.” The Oenrallian gave in first and smiled down at me. He eyed the Jorenian warily. “She merits the facts, Xonea.”
“You are correct, of course, Dhreen.” The Jorenian’s big frame relaxed, and he gave me a rueful glance. “Your pardon, Healer.”
“Can we just drop the subject?” I said. “My food is getting cold.”
After a grueling round of transition testing, I was in no mood to referee a fight. The tests were necessary, Tonetka insisted, to assure I could tolerate interdimensional shielding without the negative effects of my first experience. Necessary or not, it didn’t make the hours I spent in the simulator go any faster.
The next day Captain Pnor confirmed I’d passed the testing with flying colors. League forces had inflicted the damage by their attempt to isolate me in the midst of transition.
“Now that you know you are physically capable of serving on board,” Tonetka said with satisfaction some time later when I reported for my shift, “it is time to begin your training.”
“Training?”
She made a sweeping gesture. “Medical Bay management is but a portion of the duties assigned to the Senior Healer. We have much to do.”
I was surprised to learn that Tonetka not only supervised the inpatient and outpatient cases, but had a myriad of obligations to other departments. She was even required to go on most of the diplomatic visits to worlds the Sunlace would encounter during the journey.
“How else can you assess what needs we have that can be served by other species’ knowledge and resources?” the Senior Healer said when I objected to sojourn training. “Or decide what we can provide to them of the same?”
“I just don’t see myself as an emissary for Joren,” I said, uneasy. “I’ve never set foot on your world. I don’t look like you—”
“By the Mother, you spent too many years on that pathless ball of intolerance you call a homeworld!” the Jorenian said. “Open your mind, Healer, and forget outer physical dimensions and pigmentations!”
The Jorenians were an intrepid bunch, that was for sure. I wasn’t afraid of the work or the position, but a new sense of caution had evolved in me. So I studied hard at being a diplomat and supervisor as well as a Healer.
Tonetka sacrificed a lot of her time for my education, too. To compensate, I often reported for duty early to help the Senior Healer catch up on her own work.
“So many signals from the Joren.” Tonetka pretended to be irritated as she sorted through the latest relays from the ship’s communications one morning. “My bondmate, my ClanSisters, even my mentor. It will take me a week to review and respond to all of these.”
I glanced at the list. “Why are they sending direct relays to the ship? Is something wrong?”
Tonetka tried not to look pleased. “They have conspired to make this my last journey,” she said, then laughed softly as she accessed one of the signals. “For example, my mate states here he cannot survive another revolution. He says I must be present to insure his last rites are performed properly.”
“Is he that old?”
Tonetka snorted. “He is my junior by a dozen revolutions. I should be in such fine physical condition. Why do they worry over one soon to be embraced, like me?”
“I think I know why they’re so insistent.” I smiled. “What will I do without you once we reach Joren?”
Her expression grew stern. “Exactly what I am training you to do, Healer.”
“I can handle that,” I said. “Now we have patients we need to argue about. Ready to do rounds?”
We had fallen into a comfortable routine of spending the early hours with patients. Training continued after that each day. This morning was no different, except that one of the patients was a pre-surgical case, and his condition was deteriorating rapidly.
Jorenians had a complex metabolism that was especially resilient, and overall were an extremely healthy species. The main problems we had with them were injuries, or in a rare case like Hado Torin, effects of long-term space travel. Forty revolutions of dimensional transitioning had caused extensive vascular damage. Hado’s heart was particularly weak.
“Good morning, Hado,” I greeted the middle-aged navigator.
“Healer Cherijo, Healer Tonetka,” he said, giving us both his endearing grin. I performed the routine scans, while Tonetka observed. “All is well?”
I handed the Senior Healer my scanner before I answered him. “To be honest, Hado, your condition isn’t getting better.” I exchanged a glance with Tonetka, who nodded slightly. “We’ll need to perform the surgery soon.” I reviewed the specifics of the operation. When I was through, Hado requested a moment alone with Tonetka.
I left the old friends together to continue rounds. The Senior Healer caught up with me a few minutes later, her face etched with worry.
“He’s almost convinced it is useless to operate,” she said. “He tried to persuade me to let him embrace the stars.”
“You told him to jump in a lake, I hope.”
She nodded. “I want to prep him now. I don’t like the way his pressures are vacillating, or this sudden desire to make the final journey.”
We alerted the surgical staff, and prepared for the procedure. By the time Tonetka and I were scrubbed and in our gear, the team had Hado in a coolant cradle, prepped and ready. The cradle maintained body temperature at the level needed to keep Hado from bleeding to death during surgery.
One of the residents in training made the initial lasincision, while I monitored Hado’s vitals and put the vascular regenerators on line. The painstaking work of repairing over fifty separate compromised vessels could now begin.
Minutes after the Senior Healer and I began simultaneously operating, Hado’s pressures began to fall.
“Increase oxygen flow, and begin saturating the blood,” Tonetka said. “Cherijo.” I looked at her from the edge of my mask. “Take the damage to the heart.”
I nodded. I worked up to t
he triangular organ and began to assess.
“Left center aortic juncture is compromised in three different places. Severe coarctation. We’ll have to replace or bypass.” I already knew what my colleague was going to say. Replacement was out of the question. We simply didn’t have time, and Hado would not survive long enough for another operation.
“Bypass,” Tonetka said.
“Wait a minute.” I found four more aortic junctions equally insufficient. “Can’t. He’s got nothing left to compensate.” I indicated the area to Tonetka.
“That’s it, then.” Tonetka squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then stepped back from the table. “We’ll close him up now. Request Hado’s Speaker attend—”
“Hold on.” My mind was racing as I studied the open chest cavity. “The superior mesenteric artery.” I reached down and traced its path with a probe. “Here. There’s eighteen millimeters in this I can safely remove.”
“Even if we further reduce body temperature, we’ll still have to stop his heart and clamp off the artery,” Tonetka said. “How long to remove the section you need?”
I was fast, and she knew it. “Thirty seconds.”
“By the Mother, don’t drop the lascalpel,” she said.
The team immediately prepared Hado for the open-heart procedure. While Tonetka and I waited, we continued with the lesser repairs.
“His signs aren’t good,” one resident said when they were done. “Are you prepared to begin, Healer?”
I took up the lascalpel. “Ready.”
The Senior Healer stopped Hado’s heart. I removed the arterial section in exactly twenty-four seconds. While Tonetka repaired the extraction site, I put the replacement on a tray to one side and began operating on Hado’s heart.
“Pressures falling. Red range.”
That meant I had to work even faster. My hands flew as I removed the damaged section and prepped the site for the replacement. Hado’s monitor started to bleat slowly.
“Cherijo,” Tonetka said. “One minute.”
Without replying, I positioned the replacement section and began to suture it into place. That was when the ship was rocked suddenly by a sudden, terrifying explosion. Hado’s body shook from the vibrations, and the bloody surface of my glove slid against the lascalpel.