by Viehl, S. L.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
About the Author
Praise for the Novels of S. L. Viehl StarDoc
“I don’t read much science fiction, but I got ahold of a manuscript copy of StarDoc and just loved it. Don’t miss this one.”—Catherine Coulter
“Continuously surprising and deviously written and splendidly full of new characters.”—Anne McCaffrey
“Space opera somewhat reminiscent of C. J. Cherryh’s early work.”—Chronicle
“An entertaining, almost old-fashioned adventure. . . . The adventure and quirky mix of aliens and cultures make a fun combination.”—Locus
“An excellent protagonist. . . . [Viehl has] set the stage for an interesting series of interspecies medical adventures.”
—Space.com
“Space opera and medical melodrama mix with a dash of romance in this engaging novel . . . a rousing good yarn, with plenty of plot twists, inventive scene setting, and quirky characters to keep readers thoroughly entertained. . . . StarDoc is a fun adventure story with an appealing heroine, a lot of action, a sly sense of humor, and wonders aplenty.”—SF Site
“A fascinating reading experience . . . a wonderful heroine.” —Midwest Book Review
Beyond Varallan
“[Cherijo is] an engaging lead character. . . . Viehl skillfully weaves in the clues to build a murder mystery with several surprising ramifications.”—Space.com
Endurance
“An exciting science fiction tale . . . fast-paced and exciting. . . . SF fans will fully enjoy S. L. Viehl’s entertaining entry in one of the better ongoing series today.”
—Midwest Book Review
“[Endurance] gets into more eclectic and darker territory than most space opera, but it’s a pretty engrossing trip. Recommended.”—Hypatia’s Hoard
“A rousing medical space opera. . . . Viehl employs misdirection and humor, while not defusing the intense plot development that builds toward an explosive conclusion.”
—Romantic Times
Shockball
“Genetically enhanced fun. . . . Cherijo herself has been justly praised as a breath of fresh air—smart [and] saucy. . . . The reader seems to be invited along as an amicable companion, and such is the force of Cherijo’s personality that it sounds like fun.”—Science Fiction Weekly
“Fast-paced . . . an entertaining installment in the continuing adventures of the StarDoc.”—Locus
“An exhilarating science fiction space adventure. The zestful story line stays at warp speed. . . . Cherijo is as fresh as ever. . . . Fans of futuristic outer space novels will want to take off with this tale and the three previous StarDoc books, as all four stories take the audience where they rarely have been before.”—Midwest Book Review
Eternity Row
“Space opera at its very best. . . . Viehl has created a character and a futuristic setting that is second to none in its readability, quality, and social mores.”
—Midwest Book Review
“S. L. Viehl serves readers her usual highly entertaining mix of humor and space opera. This episode is enlivened by the antics of [Cherijo’s] daughter, Marel, and by an exploration of aging and immortality. As usual, I look forward to the next in an exciting series.”—BookLoons
Rebel Ice
“Well-drawn cultures and fascinating aliens.”
—Publishers Weekly
“It’s fast, fun, character-driven, and left me wanting more . . . one of my all-time favorite sci-fi series.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Both gritty and realistic.”—Romantic Times
“A thrilling addition to the series.”—Booklist
“A wonderful piece of space opera.”—SFRevu
“Seems very realistic—almost as if the author visited that world and decided to write about it. Rebel Ice is a terrific outer space science fiction novel.”—Bookwatch
Plague of Memory
“Another exciting adventure in this well-regarded series.”
—Monsters and Critics
Blade Dancer
“Fast-moving, thought-provoking, and just plain damn fun. S. L. Viehl has once again nailed it.”—Linda Howard
“A heartrending, passionate, breathtaking adventure of a novel that rips your feet out from under you on page one and never lets you regain them until the amazing finale. Stunning.”—Holly Lisle
ALSO BY S. L. VIEHL
StarDoc
Beyond Varallan
Endurance
Shockball
Eternity Row
Rebel Ice
Plague of Memory
Omega Games
Blade Dancer
Bio Rescue
Afterburn
ROC
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First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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Copyright © S. L. Viehl, 2009
eISBN : 978-1-101-10820-8
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“To live as a doctor is to live so that one’s life is
bound up in others’ and in science and in the messy,
complicated connection between the two.”
—Dr. Atul Gawande
One
The Iisleg, the people of my homeworld of Akkabarr, never believed in peace. The word itself has no meaning in their language. They name the time between conflicts as either malatkinin, an opportunity to recover from the last battle, or kininharkal, the chance to prepare for the next.
Until this moment, I thought I had left that sort of idiocy behind on my homeworld.
“You can’t do this.”
The dark blue faces of the three males watching me remained impassive as I rose from the conference table and moved around the room. Someone clever had worked hundreds of t’vessna flowers into various arrangements, doubtless to honor my return. I plucked one small purple flower from a hanging silver basket and held it to my nose. The sweet fragrance calmed me a little.
I had been brought here after my husband and I returned to Joren, the homeworld of my adopted people, and landed our scout vessel Moonfire at HouseClan Torin’s main transport. I had been told the meeting was some sort of official welcome. Instead, I had been treated to an intense round of questioning, and informed of what amounted to a declaration of war on another world.
“Healer Torin.”
They didn’t like my moving around; they wanted me where they could see my face. I returned to the table. “You can’t do this,” I repeated. “Over two thousand beings live on that colony.”
“Your pardon, Healer Torin, but we must.” Malaoan Adan, the Jorenian Ruling Council’s chief legal adviser, was the oldest of the three, judging by the number of purple streaks running through his braided black hair. He spoke slowly and carefully, both to project the gravity of the situation and so that the vocollar translation device I wore around my neck converted his words correctly into Iisleg, an obscure form of Terran, the only language I understood. “This matter has now become a legal issue.”
“How so?” I knew almost nothing about Jorenian law, but as I remained one of Joren’s chosen rulers, I saw no reason to confess that. “I have related to you everything that happened to me and my husband.”
“I must respectfully question your account of the events, Healer.” Volea, HouseClan Torin’s chief of security, wore his solid black hair in a warrior’s knot, and had several healed scars on his face from blades, pulse burns, and impact injuries.
If they doubted me, they had some reason to do so. “On what basis?”
Volea consulted the datapad in his hand. “According to the information retrieved from the Moonfire’s database, your ship did not make an emergency landing; it was fired upon and crashed. Audio records indicate that you and your bondmate were forcibly removed by drones not under your command.”
“You have interpreted the data incorrectly.” I was glad my husband had survived our ordeal on Trellus, because as soon as I saw him, I was going to kill him. “While we were journeying through space, my husband and I ran some simulations of those scenarios. The database and the audio records must have been damaged during the emergency landing, or they would indicate that.”
Volea shifted in his seat. “Healer, biodecon scans performed on the Sunlace revealed new tissue that would indicate you and your bondmate sustained multiple recently healed injuries.”
“Reever and I both acquired some minor flesh wounds while running the simulations.” I smiled. “Our bruises and scratches were no more serious than what one would sustain during a practice sparring match with a drone opponent.”
“You did not fight a drone,” said Xonea, my adopted ClanBrother and captain of the Sunlace. The largest of the three males, he commanded attention, although I hadn’t given him much. Xonea troubled me for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the ominous suppressed emotion glittering in his white-within-white eyes. “We detected Sovant’s DNA embedded in your garments. What say you tell us how you simulated that?”
I thought of the alien predator I had helped to capture and exterminate on the quarantined colony of Trellus. It had been a voracious, horrific thing that had possessed the bodies of sentient beings, destroying their minds and then masquerading as their prey while devouring them from the inside out. I could not tell them that Reever and I had been forced down on the planet to serve as bait for it.
“That was likely from some form of accidental contact.” I clamped down on my rising temper. “We could have brushed up against something already contaminated with the DNA.”
“Indeed.” Xonea flattened his six-fingered hands on the table and leaned forward. “You and Reever unintentionally collided with something doused with at least two liters of Sovant blood, bone, and brain tissue?”
I couldn’t tell him about the final battle we had fought with the colonists against the Sovant, so I folded my hands in my lap. “Garments become contaminated with all manner of foreign DNA, particularly when one visits a multispecies colony. It may have happened over a period of weeks—”
“Healer, there is no need to deceive us any longer,” Malaoan said gently. “You are under no obligation to protect the Trellusans. It is clear to us that they committed or were involved in these acts. We have only to declare ClanKill before a witness of your House.”
Now I understood their unwavering determination to pursue complete extermination. On Joren, if one makes a threat against one of the people in the presence of his blood kin, he would be publicly declared ClanKill, treated as prey, and hunted down by the entire HouseClan. The Jorenians would not stop until he was caught, and whoever did so first would eviscerate him with their bare hands.
Such was always done, even if the offender had made only a verbal threat. What had happened to me and my husband on Trellus had been much worse, and they had evidence of it. Naturally, they were outraged.
This was why these three calm, pleasant men were proposing to send Jorenian ships to Trellus to destroy the entire colony from orbit.
I needed to stall them until I could find Reever. “There is no reason to declare ClanKill on the Trellusans,” I said as firmly as I could. “My husband and I have returned safely to Joren.”
Volea smiled at me. “For this we thank the Mother of all Houses each day.”
With his hands—Jorenians used gestures as well as words to speak—Malaoan made a beautiful motion that I recognized as agreement. “We understand your inherent need to preserve life, Healer Torin, but in this case it is not applicable under the law.”
“Really.” I needed to change some laws.
He nodded quickly. “Multiple offenses have been committed. The colony is small and has few defenses. We need send but two or three vessels to eradicate the population. We would not have troubled you with this matter, but we wished to reassure you that justice will be served.”
The pressure increasing at my temples made me imagine for a moment my skull flying apart. “You are not listening to me. I was stranded on the colony with my husband. I know what happened and who was involved. The colonists are not guilty of any crime. I made a full report. It is over. I wish to see my daughter now.”
“So you will, once this matter is decided.” Xonea smiled at me, and not in a particularly friendly fashion. “As first ClanSon of the Torin, I say it is far from finished.”
I heard a sound that made me think of the jaws of an ice snare snapping around my ankle. Fortunately, it was the access panel behind me, opening to admit a tall, lean male dressed in black garments, his golden hair loose around his handsome if somewhat impassive features.
“Duncan.” I rose and almost knocked over a stand of t’vessna worked into the Jorenian symbol for the path, and went to my husband, taking his hands in mine. I needed to touch him in order to establish a telepathic link between our minds. They are going to send a fleet of shi
ps to destroy Trellus. They found evidence of what happened and they’re blaming the colonists. They even found the wretched Sovant’s DNA on our garments when we were scanned.
Worry not, beloved. He pressed his mouth briefly to my brow before his clear blue eyes moved to study the faces of the other males. “I was not made aware that this welcoming committee intended to separate me from my wife in order to intimidate and interrogate her.”
Malaoan and Volea shifted in their chairs, clearly uncomfortable.
Xonea, in contrast, didn’t twitch a muscle. “Much as we were not made aware of your true reason for leaving Joren. Sit down, Duncan.”
When I began to tell him that he had no right to order either of us to do anything, Reever put one of his hands over mine. One newly healed wound slashed across the lattice of old white scars covering the flesh from his knuckles to his wrist.
“As you say, Captain.” He led me back to the table and sat down with me, his eyes never leaving Xonea’s. “Before anything more is said or decided, Jarn and I shield the colonists of Trellus.”
“As bondmate of a naturalized Jorenian, you have limited rights under our laws, Linguist Reever,” Volea said, his tone decidedly cool. “They do not include making decisions for a Ruling Council member, or shielding those responsible for threatening her life.”
“Then I will say the words,” I told him. “I shield the colonists of Trellus.”
Malaoan’s expression turned sympathetic. “Under ordinary circumstances, that would be acceptable, Healer, but in this case special considerations for your current mental state must be made.”
I tried not to grit my teeth. “What has my mental state to do with anything?”
“Your medical records indicate that you suffered extensive brain damage and severe emotional trauma while being held captive on Akkabarr,” the legal adviser said. “You persist in referring to yourself as another persona named Jarn. Add to this the ordeal you must have endured on Trellus, and it is apparent that your ability to make rational decisions has been compromised. In such cases, under Jorenian law, the affected individual’s HouseClan is required to intervene and provide consent.”