Endurance

by Richard Chizmar

  “You are late,” he said as soon as he saw me.

  “Your guards trashed my infirmary,” I said. “What is this pre-trade inspection you want me to perform?”

  “The traders now insist all slaves be inspected and certified disease free before they leave Catopsa.” Before I could formulate a reply to that, the OverLord cast a large yellow eye in my direction. “Do not think to falsely certify any of them unfit for trade, Doctor, or I will close down your infirmary.”

  So much for Strategy Number One. “What if I don’t want to do these inspections?”

  “I will close down the infirmary until you do.”

  And Number Two. “How many prisoners are you selling today?”

  “A small group. Fifty.”

  There were more than fifty traders waiting in the huge trade commons when we entered. No sign of the merchandise, though. TssVar ordered the guard to take me into another chamber off the main structure, and there I found the prisoners waiting to be sold. The guard handed me a scanner and a data pad.

  “Inspect them, and send them out when you are finished. Detain any who are unfit for sale.”

  The centuron went back out to the commons. The slaves all looked at me with varying degrees of despair, disgust, and outright hatred.

  I squared my shoulders. “Do you know what happens to unfit slaves?” Several of the group made affirmative gestures. “Good. Let’s get started.” Since no one appeared to be anxious to volunteer, I pointed to a handful of prisoners. “You, you, and you. And you two over there. Come here, one at a time, please.”

  The first shuffled over. It was a Whelikkian albino, and looked on the thin side. A quick scan revealed some minor malnourishment, but no disease. “Okay.” I recorded the results on the data pad. “What’s your name?”

  “Ska Gruv,” the male said in a sullen tone. His white hide turned faintly pink. “What does it matter?”

  “I’m going to make a record of your names and who they sell you to.” I glanced at the doorway, then risked keeping my headgear on. “Keeping meticulous records is important. I’m going to need names, planet of origin, your last assignment, and anything else you may think pertinent. You never know who might get a chance to look at these facts.”

  That was the most I could say, but the Whelikkian understood as soon as I took out the other data pad I’d slipped in my tunic pocket, and copied the data over to it.

  “Whelikkia, Aca Nok territories. Taken during a trade jaunt in the Hutillo Quadrant,” he told me. “My ship was the Ral Ber. All forty crew members survived and were brought here.”

  I gave him a reassuring smile. “Thanks.”

  It took another two hours to do all the inspections, and record all the data. Two of the prisoners I asked to wait to one side while I finished with the others. Once I was alone with them, I used the data pad to translate my Terran diagnosis into their language.

  I assume you know what’s wrong, I keyed in. I’ve altered your records and have certified you as fit. I’m sorry, but the truth is, you only have a few rotations left, at the most.

  One of the ruddy-faced Isalth-io humanoids exchanged a significant glance with its friend, then took the data pad and typed in an inquiry. Why do you not tell the beasts?

  I don’t work for them, I typed. I figured you didn’t want to die on this rock, either.

  They both nodded, touched their delicate hands to mine, then walked out to the trade platform. To the untrained eye, they both looked extremely healthy. They weren’t, although they had been: for nearly four centuries, the entire length of their species natural life span. Soon—very soon—they would both be dead of natural causes—old age.

  I finished saving the data to my spare data pad and followed them. What I saw made me stand in the doorway and stare.

  All fifty slaves had been placed on an elevated grav-platform that was hovering a meter off the ground. The enormous stage made a slow route around the chamber, and traders peered eagerly at the prisoners standing on it.

  The pre-auction viewing. The sight filled me with disgust, and I wished I could walk out. Only I couldn’t. I had to fake interest so I could stay and hear every slave’s destination, record it, and hope to somehow get it off Catopsa and to the nearest League Authority. The League might not want to deal with me, but they would certainly go after every one of the worlds dealing in slaves.

  The bidding began as soon as the platform landed and the Hsktskt brought the prisoners forward, two at a time. A large display screen kept track of the electronic offers, and noted each final bid. I kept my eyes fixed on that as I input the same into my personal data pad.

  Bastards.

  Some of the prisoners wept and pleaded, and it got harder to keep my focus on the display. Centurons had to drag others off the platform to turn them over to their new “Masters.” Females cringed as knowing hands ran over them. Males swore as their limbs were inspected for strength and flexibility. By the time the trading was through, I was shaking.

  Alunthri had endured this. Maybe I would, too.

  “Have you completed the inspection records?” the OverLord asked from behind me.

  “Yes.” I swiftly switched the data pads, then turned.

  TssVar was accompanied by an oddly dressed, smaller Hsktskt. A female, judging by the brow markings I’d come to recognize. She returned my scrutiny.

  “Here.” I handed him the pad the guard had given me, and watched the traders hustling the slaves they’d purchased from the commons. “I’ll get back to the infirmary now.” And throw up in private.

  “You will be required to perform these inspections at all future trade sessions.”

  “Be still my heart.” I didn’t bother to hide my aversion.

  “She is punier than I remember,” the female said suddenly. “But her insolence has not changed.”

  A clear memory of the same low, rough voice screaming at me dispelled some of my tension. “You’re in a much better mood than the last time I saw you, Mom.”

  TssVar made an impatient sound that expressed his opinion of females. “My mate, UgessVa.”

  “CrreeVar.” UgessVa hailed another Hsktskt coming toward us, and tapped me with the end of one limb. “Here are others you may recognize, Doctor.”

  A cluster of beings almost as tall as I was trailed after CrreeVar, who was wearing a male version of UgessVa’s garment. Identical to Hsktskt, only shorter, they wore short, kilted tunics and were hissing and arguing among themselves. I’d seen infant Hsktskt, and the adult versions, but never had encountered the in-between ages.

  Of course, my brain kicked in. These were the quintuplets I’d delivered back on K-2.

  At the sight of their sire, all five came to a halt and fell into a silent, straight line.

  “The brood appears fit, Nurturer,” TssVar said after subjecting the kids to a thorough inspection. The largest of the brood peered at me and made a chuffing sound. “You wish to say something, ChrreechoVa?”

  Oh, God, TssVar’s mate had kept her promise and named the poor kid after me. No wonder the girl looked like she wanted to kick something.

  The five-and-a-half-foot tall female gazed steadily in my direction. “This female is my Designate, Over-Lord, is it not?”

  “Yes. This is Dr. Cherijo Torin. You may make your greeting.”

  The female walked out of the line and approached me, her tongue flickering constantly as she tasted my air. “There is not much to her, is there, Nuturer?”

  UgessVa waved a limb. “She is Terran; they are a diminutive species.”

  “I greet you, Designate Chrreecho,” ChrreechoVa said, and slapped a limb against my shoulder. “Your name is difficult to articulate.”

  Yeah, well, she was only about a year and a half old. And strong, too, judging from the throb in my upper arm. “I’m sorry they stuck you with it.”

  “Do I not please you?” She struck a straighter stance. “I am the Dominary among my brood-siblings. They defer to me in all things.”


  “You look like a nice kid.” When she didn’t get that, I tried again. “You please me very much.”

  She tried to imitate my smile, then looked up at her mother. “Why does she bare her teeth like that, Nurturer?”

  “It is an expression of approval. Her kind have an annoying mobility to their facial muscles.” UgessVa turned to address me. “Our Dominary excels during her educational intervals.”

  Better than being lousy at school. “That’s good.”

  “We must not detain your sire.” CrreeVar, who I figured was a sort of male nanny, herded the kids along. Before she disappeared around a corner, ChrreechoVa gave me a last, lingering stare.

  “Nice kids.” I waved. “They look like they’re thriving.”

  “They are.” UgessVa seemed disgruntled about something. “My Dominary wishes to be a physician. That should gratify you, Terran.”

  I chuckled. Oddly enough, it did.

  I left OverLord TssVar to play Happy Family with his brood and headed back to the infirmary. No guards followed me, which was a good thing. Halfway there a mirrored door opened into the corridor and a tall, shrouded figure beckoned to me.

  “Noarr?” I glanced quickly around, then hurried into the aperture. The quasi-quartz panel swung shut behind me. “What are you, nuts? Someone will catch you!”

  “I need your help.” Without another word he grabbed my hand with his flipper and pulled me down another narrow tunnel. Around one bend another figure stood waiting—Wonlee.

  “What are you doing here?” I looked from the League Lieutenant to my silent companion.

  “There are five who must be removed from the infirmary,” Noarr told me.

  “Five what? Patients?”

  “Yes. We need your help getting them off the planet, Doctor,” Wonlee said.

  “How?”

  Wonlee handed Noarr a syrinpress, which the alien filled from a vial of colorless liquid then extended to me. “The guards moved them to impatient berths while you were at the trading session. Inject each of them with twenty units of this, then certify their deaths.”

  I stepped back, banging my shoulders into a wall. “I’m not killing anyone.”

  “You won’t kill them,” Wonlee said. “The fluid will slow their metabolisms and mask their life signs for several hours. Hsktskt use the same when preparing to enter cryogenic suspension.”

  “Adrenlatyne?” I snatched the syrinpress away from Noarr the moment he nodded. “Do you know how lethal this drug is?” Neither of them appeared terribly concerned. “Why risk killing them just to make them look dead? How are you going to get them off the planet? What’s the big hurry?”

  Noarr and the Lieutenant glanced at each other.

  Nice to be trusted. I dropped the instrument in my tunic pocket and planted my fists on my hips. “Someone had better start talking, or I’m going to try this stuff out on one of you.”

  Wonlee’s spines rose, but almost at once he sighed and leaned back against the wall. “I have been assigned to recycling.” He inclined his head toward Noarr. “Once I retrieve the bodies, he will use the tunnels to remove them from the compound.”

  Time for tall, dark, and tattoo-faced to do some explaining, so I pivoted and addressed him. “What are you going to do with them?”

  “One of the salvage merchants works for me. He will place the prisoners in suspension, relocate them to their homeworld, and see to it they receive the medical treatment they need.”

  I fingered the applicator. “Why these five prisoners in particular?”

  “The reproductive inhibitors have created a toxic reaction in their species. Without treatment on their homeworlds with native pharmaceuticals, they will die within the next rotation.”

  “All right.” I gave Noarr a hard look. “If you’re lying to me, I swear, I will make you the most miserable being on this rock.”

  “That will be difficult to do,” Wonlee said.

  I turned on him. “Not for me, pal.”

  It took time to get out of the tunnel undetected and back to the infirmary. Once I was there, I had to convince Zella and Vlaav to go back to their chambers early. That required me to stage a professional temper tantrum.

  “Doctor, you were a half an hour late dispensing meds. These dressings are a disgrace, nurse. And if I see one more patient developing berth sores, I’m going to find a large, blunt object and start beating you both over the head with it. Get out of here, now.” Vlaav started making excuses, while my bad-tempered nurse began sputtering. “Shut up! Just go—get out!” I yelled.

  They both left, justifiably upset with me. I’d apologize to them later, I promised myself. Now I had to get Noarr’s five patients prepped and isolated. I pulled the charts and located them. They were grouped with the female meningitis patients. Since I hadn’t performed rounds since my return, the sight of them made me gasp.

  Five eight-limbed, dusk-colored bodies lay huddled beneath thermal wraps. One of the females rotated an eye cluster toward me, and buzzed something unintelligible.

  Evidently TssVar hadn’t returned all the Aksellan captives to Clyvos.

  I set up privacy screens, then made quick examinations of all of them. They were uniformly battered, limbs bruised, carapaces cracked in several areas. No inhibitor drug in the world did this kind of damage.

  Noarr appeared beside me. “Have you administered the adrenlatyne?”

  I whirled around and jammed the syrinpress against his broad neck. “What did you do to them, you lying snake?”

  A moment later I was sitting on my backside on the floor, and Noarr was administering the drug to the first Aksellan female. Whatever he’d done to me had bruised my wrist, elbow, and dignity, among other things. That didn’t mean I was going to sit there and let him murder my patients.

  I pushed myself up and flung myself directly at him. And found myself dangling a foot off the floor, suspended by a fistful of tunic.

  “Either help me,” he said, “or stay out of my way.”

  What he meant was, trust him. I had little reason to do so. Yet every instinct inside me was inclined to do just that. I swiped at the syrinpress. “Put me down. I’ll do it.”

  He shadowed me as I infused each of the females with the drug. Another hidden door opened in the back of the infirmary, and Wonlee emerged.

  “Are you done? I must report back to the centuron before I am missed.”

  “Go.” I ran a scan on the five females and falsified death recordings for each of them. Noarr hovered, watching me. “That means you, too, Zorro.”

  “Zorro?”

  “Another demented male with a hopeless mission. Go on. Get out of here.”

  Noarr and Wonlee left the way they came. I went to the console and signaled for a recycler crew to come and retrieve the not-quite-dead corpses. While I was waiting for them to arrive, I finished rounds and tried not to wonder if I’d done the right thing.

  Acting nonchalant as Wonlee and two other slaves came in to remove the Aksellans wasn’t easy. The Lieutenant didn’t look at me, but something was wrong. I could feel it.

  “Doctor.”

  The hair on the back of my neck rose as I turned. “OverMaster HalaVar.” I gave Reever what I prayed was a convincingly snotty scowl. “Surely you don’t need medical treatment. That would convince me there is a God.”

  “I was informed of the Aksellan deaths.”

  He regarded the crew removing the bodies, and stopped one litter to lift the thermal cover and inspect the motionless form. It gave me time to raise some mental walls, just in case he decided to resort to one of his mind-control tricks.

  “As you see, arachnids don’t respond well to reproductive controllers.” I yanked the cover back over the patient. “Have some common decency and respect the dead, will you?”

  He wasn’t about to let it go. “There was nothing you could do for them?”

  “Not a thing.” Terror should have paralyzed me, made me stutter, something. Instead I lied my way through a concise, c
ompletely false postmortem report. “Maybe you should reconsider using chemical inhibitors on your merchandise. It’s killing them faster than you can sell them,” I said, as an afterthought.

  Naturally he had an annoying comeback ready. “You would prefer to see small children torn from their parents and sold to the highest bidder?”

  “Is that why you wanted to get me pregnant?” I smiled when I saw his nearly imperceptible reaction. Distaste? Or was it something more basic? “Think our kid would bring a good price?”

  He ignored Wonlee and the others—the whole point of my provocation—and moved closer. When he would have touched me, I glided back a step. “I would never sell our child.”

  My face got hot again. “Let me clarify this, Over-Master HalaVar. We’re not having a child. We’re never having a child. I wouldn’t have sex with you if you were the last Terran in existence. I’d rather mate with GothVar. Not only would he be a better lover, but giving birth to a litter of his little monsters would be a treat versus letting you touch me.”

  The Aksellans were gone. The centurons Reever had brought with him had left the infirmary. It was just me and him now, and from the set of his jaw I could tell my lord and OverMaster was just a little upset. Good. Brooding over my latest rejection would keep him from interfering with Noarr. Recklessly I pushed past him and went to rescan one of the patients.

  “Cherijo.”

  The patient’s condition hadn’t changed, and I made a totally unnecessary chart entry noting the same.

  Reever came up behind me and tugged at the sleeve of my tunic. “Your PIC has healed over again.”

  He must have seen it when I’d picked up the chart. Damn it. “You’ll have to brand me later,” I said, unable to keep my voice from shaking. “I’m busy now.”

  “It doesn’t have to be this way between us.”

  I jerked my sleeve down. “Oh, yes it does.”

  Several hours later, the sight of Noarr stepping out of my storage unit made me shriek and hit the door panel controls with my fist.

  “What are you doing?” I looked through the wall to the corridor. “Someone will see you!”

  “I wanted to see you.”