by S. L. Viehl
Beyond the gallery was a large, formal area with a single long, wide table interspersed with dimensional image projectors set into its surface. At that moment several holoimages of Jorenian anatomy were being projected. These were being studied and discussed by the twenty or so Jorenian physicians present and several Hsktskt in Faction uniforms. Everyone stopped talking as soon as we stepped into view, and the oldest of the physicians politely rose to her feet.
“Healer Torin, welcome.” She came around the table to finish the greeting and clasp my hands in Terran fashion. “I am Healer Apalea. I trust my ClanSon has inquired after your needs?”
I smiled at Apalo. “He’s been terrific.” I didn’t want to look at the Hsktskt, but one tall female had gotten up from the table and was heading toward us. In a lower voice, I asked, “How are things going with them?”
“The path has not been the smoothest,” Apalea admitted. “The Faction representatives have not yet accustomed themselves to speaking to humanoids as equals.”
For centuries the Hsktskt had regarded warm-blooded species as inferior and fit only for enslavement or execution. Even with all that Jarn had done to save their species, I had doubted they would completely abandon their prejudices.
Apalea turned to the Hsktskt female as she joined us. “Healer ChoVa, I believe you know Healer Torin.”
“As her designate, very well.” ChoVa bowed toward me while letting her head fall back, which was a public declaration of regard and respect.
It took me a moment to process what she’d said. “My God. You’re little ChrreechoVa.” I noticed the medical emblem on her tunic. “I’ll be damned. You kept your promise to become a physician.”
“I always keep my word, Namesake.” She straightened and inspected my face. “We were told of your return, but I was not certain I believed it to be true until now.” The forked end of her black tongue tasted my air. “You are as I remember you on Catopsa. Not at all like the other who wore your hide.”
“I will take that as a compliment, thank you.” I introduced Shon, who was polite but distant. “Where is this alterformed male you want to tinker with?”
“I am here.”
He came to stand beside ChoVa, and when I looked into his face, I felt as if I’d been punched in the belly. Seven feet tall, matte black hair, smooth blue skin. Four parallel scars that scored one of his lean cheeks, and a purple streak blazed in his black hair, but other than that, he was the image of Kao Torin, right down to the gleam of humor in his white-within-white eyes.
“Well, hello.” Emotion welled up inside me as I took him in. “You have a nice face.”
“It is too blue. I feel exposed without my scales. But these work well enough.” He smiled, and showed Kao’s perfect white teeth, filed down to sharp points.
The unsightly alteration to his dentition instantly shattered the illusion, which allowed me to get hold of myself and offer my hand. “You’re called PyrsVar, is that right?”
“Yes.” He handled the Terran gesture of greeting without a hitch, and didn’t crush my fingers in his. I noted that his skin was several degrees cooler than a Jorenian’s should have been. “And you are Cherijo.”
“It is not proper to use family names among the warm-bloods until you are invited to do so,” ChoVa chided him. To me she said, “He is yet learning how to conduct himself around your kind.”
“Oh, yes.” PyrsVar rotated his eyes in a distinctly un-Jorenian fashion. “One must not utter insults, or make unguarded gestures. One must not offer an opinion on warm-blooded matters. Now one must not use the wrong name, however many there are.” He grinned again. “One has not yet mastered the ridiculousness of diplomacy and protocol.”
“One could have remained behind on the ship,” ChoVa said sharply, “performing maintenance on the lavatory and atmospheric-control units.”
“When one is the primary reason for the sojourn?” PyrsVar made a scoffing sound. “I think not.”
Although they sounded like bickering adolescents, and behaved as if they disliked each other intensely, I had the feeling there was more to these two than what I was seeing. Even sniping at each other, they seemed comfortable, like old friends.
“From what the Torin told me, the Hsktskt are interested in reversing the bioengineering performed on PyrsVar.” When ChoVa nodded, I glanced at the console. “Would you mind giving us a quick overview of what you’ve discussed so far?”
That sent everyone back to the console table, and Apalea seated Shon and me in the center before running through a series of holoimages that had been provided by the delegation. I had to force myself not to stare at the Hsktskt who had been so drastically alterformed. He might have changed his teeth and picked up some scars, but there was still far too much of my lost love in the set of his expressions, and the elegant, purposeful way he moved.
He’s not Kao. He’s a lizard wearing his stolen cloned body.
“Four years ago unknown methods were used to transform PyrsVar’s body from that of a healthy adult Hsktskt male to a duplicate of Kao Torin,” Apalea told me. “After capturing the private facility where these procedures were carried out, the Hanar’s forces were able to recover some information from the medical database, but much of it was destroyed during the final battle.” She brought up a holoimage of a young Hsktskt adult male.
“That is as I was born,” PyrsVar said, inclining his head toward the projection. “Hsktskt. Pure of blood. Clear of thought.”
“Simple of mind,” I heard ChoVa mutter.
“What sort of information did they recover?” I asked Apalea.
“Not a great deal, Healer. Some charted entries and assessment scans on the progression of the alterformation.” She pulled up a second image of PyrsVar in Hsktskt form, only now with new, blue skin that was visibly shedding scales. A third showed the beginnings of soft-tissue and musculature changes to his head, torso, and limbs. “There were no details regarding the process used to transform PyrsVar. The healer who experimented on him may have refrained from keeping notes or destroyed them once the process was completed in order to safeguard his methods.”
“He wasn’t a healer,” I said, thinking of SrrokVar and the monster he had been. I looked at ChoVa. “I assume you’ve run some comprehensive scans to determine what percentage of his anatomy is currently affected.”
She nodded. “The outward appearance is that of a Jorenian, but this is deceptive. His internal systems were actually augmented rather than altered, so he possesses both Jorenian and Hsktskt organs. He has also retained certain congenital aspects of bone structure and musculature.”
From what I knew of the two species, that was on the order of a miracle. “He shouldn’t have been able to merge the two physiologies. Hsktskt and Jorenians can’t produce children.” I glanced at Apalea. “Can they?”
“There is no record of a Jorenian/Hsktskt hybrid,” she said, shifting in her seat. “However, we know from the members of HouseClan Kalea that certain other reptilian species like the Tingalean and the Korpa are capable of siring children with our females.”
“The Korpa are completely different from the Hsktskt, but the Tingaleans . . .” I paused to consider and compare the anatomical details. “There is a remote possibility, then.”
“PyrsVar proves that it can be done, Healer.” ChoVa gestured to the living, breathing paradox in the room. “Genetic scans indicate that SrrokVar did not recombine the DNA from each species, but forced them onto the body, which he used as both a scaffold and an incubator. Based on the internal scarring, I believe that he first grew the Jorenian organs inside PyrsVar’s body, and once they were fully developed, he surgically integrated them.”
If he’d done that, he would have had to also force the body itself to accept . . . “Oh, God.” My eyes widened as the implications sank in. “ChoVa, please tell me that you continued administering the antirejection drugs.”
“As soon as we realized that his body was beginning to attack itself, I began a new regime of imm
unosuppressant.” She glanced at PyrsVar. “At present his systems are stable.”
There was more to it than that, and I sensed none of it was good, but I guessed she didn’t want to give me the bad news in front of him or the other delegates. Now I had to prod another sensitive area. “All right. What I need to know now is, why do the Hsktskt want to reverse-engineer the alterformation process? Or is it just this male?”
All the lizards looked at one another, as if waiting for someone else to spill the beans. ChoVa fiddled with the console. Apalea’s expression became strained.
“It is only me they wish to change,” PyrsVar said. “The Hanar does not wish me to breed as I am now. Nor do the warm-bloods. They will not say this to you for fear of offending each other and breaking the peace between our people.”
“Is he right?” I asked ChoVa and Apalea. Both females exchanged a long glance before the Jorenian said, “It would be best for both species if a third, hybrid species does not come into being.”
“You don’t have to go to all this trouble,” I said. “Sterilization will keep him from breeding.”
“Yes.” PyrsVar folded his arms. “But that is the thing that I will not allow them to do to me.”
Procreation was as important to the Hsktskt as it was to the Jorenians, but so were their cultural boundaries, so his attitude made no sense. “You’d rather risk your life?”
“Your brain problem prevents you from remembering what happened between us on Vtaga. I wish very much to have young.” He showed me again how he had ruined Kao’s teeth. “Had you not escaped me on Vtaga, I would have taken you as my woman and bred you.”
Shon went rigid beside me. Apalea covered her eyes with her hand. Cho Va looked ready to save me a lot of trouble by killing the patient with her bare hands.
I did the sensible thing and laughed. “Given my unique physiology, Hsktskt, I think you would have found that a little more difficult than you imagine.”
He shrugged. “Then I would have found another female and kept you for my pleasure.”
Every female in the room looked appalled, but I had to chuckle again. “Thank you. I think. Is it absolutely necessary for us to go to all this trouble simply so that you can be a daddy?”
“Every being has the right to breed and secure the future,” he told me. “Now that my line has been restored to me by the Hanar, I wish to be as any other male, and have the life that SrrokVar stole from me.” He looked at his blue hands and their twelve fingers. “I cannot do that in this hide and with these parts.”
He sounded determined . . . and painfully young. “Have your people told you exactly how dangerous this kind of experiment is? It’s unprecedented, so we’ll have no set procedure to follow. It will definitely not be painless. We’ll do the best we can, but it’s almost certain that we will make some mistakes. In the end, this could cost you your life.”
“I survived this.” He made a fist and thumped it against the vault of his chest. “A life without a mate or young is pointless. I will have what was—I will be as I was—or die trying.”
In that moment I should have flatly refused. Undoing the genetic stew of his body promised to be a nightmare, and the odds were against his survival. An uncomfortable life was better than no life at all. He could find a tolerant mate; they could adopt young.
But I also knew how strong the desire to have a child was. After he had Chosen me, Kao and I had shared our dreams of someday having a family together. Later, after I discovered that my hypervigilant immune system would spontaneously abort any pregnancy, I’d taken extreme measures to save the fetus that Reever and I had conceived together.
“Be sure this is what you want,” I told PyrsVar. “I can almost guarantee you that any separation we attempt will not be reversible.”
“I will endure what I must. I am Hsktskt.” He swept his arm in a dismissive gesture.
“You’re a hybrid,” I corrected, “and not a very well-built one at that.” I turned my attention back to the holoimage of his internal organs, and noticed his Jorenian spleen was taking up more space than it should. “What caused the enlargement here?”
“An immune system response to the presence of his Jorenian augmentations,” ChoVa said. “Reinstituting regular doses of antirejection drugs has stabilized it.”
I punched up specific scans of the spleen and studied the data, which knotted my stomach. Not taking the meds, even for the short time that his regime had been interrupted, had resulted in a significant amount of damage. It couldn’t be reversed and made him more vulnerable to infection. “What other organs and vessels were compromised?”
“Infection has scarred his lungs and cardiac organs.” She magnified the affected areas to show me the damage. “He has also suffered several seizures, both from exposure to the plague of memory and from immune-response enzymatic spikes.”
“I’ll need to see all the medical records on him, complete or not, and a full list of the drugs you’ve administered before we decide what direction to take.” I thought for a moment. “We should draw his blood and see if we can synthesize more. I want enough for at least three complete transfusions.”
“Surgery is not practical,” ChoVa said. “His body is too dependent on the augmentations.”
“No, we can’t cut them out of him,” I agreed. “However, that’s not the only option. Have you run a complete microcellular series?”
“Yes, but the results indicate the alterformation was not entirely induced by standard viral methods.” She sounded frustrated now. “We cannot discern what SrrokVar did to accomplish the genomeld.”
“We will.” That monster wasn’t getting the better of me again, not from the grave.
“I do not understand what any of this means,” PyrsVar complained.
“It means you must be quiet and do as you are told,” ChoVa snapped. “Or we will make errors in your treatment, and you will die.”
“All things die.” He folded his arms. “Are you so easily distracted?”
“I’ll explain this to you later,” I promised him before ChoVa could reply. “Right now you do need to let us work.” I stood. “Healer Apalea, I’d like to admit PyrsVar to your HouseClan medical facility for a preliminary workup. We’ll also need access to a genetics lab and some staff to assist. Would the Adan be willing to accommodate all that?”
She made a reassuring gesture. “The Ruling Council has indicated that you are to have whatever you deem necessary. I will personally supervise the resource management and act as official liaison.”
“The Hanar will wish to be consulted about this,” one of the delegates predicted.
“I’ll deal with TssVar personally,” I told him, enjoying the way his eyes bulged. I turned back to Apalea. “I’d like to work with a team of doctors and nurses who have experience in treating genetically compromised patients. ChoVa, I hope you’re not planning to return to Vtaga anytime soon, because I need your knowledge and experience on this case.”
She inclined her head. “I will be happy to stay and provide whatever assistance you require, Namesake.”
“She would not go even if you asked her to,” PyrsVar said. “She enjoys watching me suffer.”
“Not as often as I wish,” ChoVa muttered.
The Hsktskt rarely joked about anything, but I didn’t think they were serious. In fact I was picking up something else from both of them, in the way they looked at each other and the distinct lack of viciousness behind their cold words. It wasn’t friendship; I could see that they weren’t good buddies. Then I understood. Somehow the daughter of the supreme ruler over the Hsktskt Faction and a renegade male trapped in the body of a warm-blooded offworlder had developed feelings for each other.
These two were in love.
I turned to Apalea. “Before we do anything, I need to contact the Hanar on Vtaga.”
An hour later I sat down in front of an interplanetary-communications array. I didn’t recognize half the console controls or the design of the unit. “This looks li
ke something I could seriously damage.”
“Establishing interplanetary relay channels requires rather more than a standard com unit provides,” Apalo told me as he bent over to adjust something. When I reached for one of the keypads, he caught my hand. “I have preset all the controls, Healer. It is best that you not touch the console while you are signaling Vtaga—unless you wish to damage it.”
“Sorry.” I put my hand in my lap.
Apalo smiled a little as he indicated the display. “Speak clearly and directly to the monitor, like so.” He ducked his head and pressed a key. “Centuron KssetaVa, Healer Torin is ready to commence her relay.”
“Acknowledged,” a Hsktskt voice growled over the audio. “Now transferring relay over to the secured channel.”
“When you are ready to speak, press this switch.” After showing me which one, Apalo straightened. “And should you need assistance, Healer, I will be waiting outside in the corridor.”
I glanced at the switch as my stomach clenched. “Thanks for your help.”
The communications officer withdrew, which left me alone with the beast. I pressed the switch and watched the face of my old enemy coalesce on the screen.
Seeing him made me idly wonder just how many strange and exotic patients I had treated in the years since I’d left Terra. TssVar—or, more precisely, his mate and their young—had been among my first.
My charge nurse’s four eyes rolled wildly toward me, and I saw why she had choked out her report—the business end of a pulse rifle was pressed tightly against her larynx. Terror had mottled her smooth vermilion hide with dark splotches.
On the other end of the weapon was a monster. A big, ugly green monster.
It was a sextipedal, reptilian being with a number of minor contusions on its head and upper limbs. Close to ten feet tall and weighing over four hundred kilos, it towered over T’Nliqinara. An unfamiliar metallic uniform covered a brutal frame thick with broad ropes of muscle. Whatever it was, it meant business.
As TssVar did now, judging by the look in his glaring yellow eyes. The former OverLord spoke in his native language, a series of clicks, grunts, and hisses that the ship’s translator muted as it translated it into Terran for me.