Endurance

by neetha Napew

  The launch left the surface shortly after that, carrying all of us away from the crystal asteroid up to a familiar sight. A huge, elegant star vessel, shaped much like a Terran nautilus shell, spiraled slowly as it maintained orbit above Catopsa. Gyrlifts whirled busily around the hull, transporting crew members from one level to another.

  With a small sinking feeling, I noticed the newly installed weaponry. Until they broke off relations with the Allied League of Worlds, the Jorenians had never bothered much with armament. They were primarily a race of nonviolent explorers.

  Had been, until they’d gotten involved with me.

  “The Sunlace looks good,” I said to Xonea. He had invited me to sit by him at the helm, and I enjoyed watching him pilot the launch. He made it look so easy. “Everything go well with the retrofit?”

  “Yes, although it took some time to correct the problems with the buffer and damage to the stardrive.”

  I let a little ice enter my tone. “I see you finally got all those big sonic cannons you wanted.”

  “I will not quarrel with you over the upgrade of ship’s defense systems, ClanSister.” He gave me a wry glance. “On the last occasion I did so, I suffered no small amount of humiliation, and lost the argument as well.”

  “All right. For now.” I sat back and relaxed. “In any event, I’m too glad to see everyone to be debating defense systems.”

  “They eagerly await your return.” He glanced at me and smiled. “You should know our entire HouseClan volunteered as crew for this mission.”

  My brows rose. “Did you fit all the Torins on the ship?”

  He laughed. “I tried.”

  We flew directly into the launch bay, where a huge assembly of Jorenians stood patiently waiting. Once we had deconned, Xonea took my hand and led me to the hull doors.

  As they opened, I gulped. It sure looked like the entire HouseClan was out there. “I don’t have to make a speech, right?”

  “I do not believe you will have the opportunity, ClanSister.”

  Everyone started shouting and smiling and laughing, and I found myself doing the same. I was embraced everywhere I turned, by every member of the crew. Jenner and Alunthri were equally adored. It took awhile to get through that. At last I saw one face that was definitely not blue, and excused myself to head in that direction.

  His blue-and-white tunic looked good on him, in spite of the fact he had bright pink skin. The beard-like mass of white tendrils around his mouth were straight and solemn, but there was affection and relief glowing in the round, dark eyes.

  “Senior Healer,” I said, and awkwardly made the formal Jorenian gesture of greeting.

  “Doctor Torin.” The Omorr inclined his head.

  We stood like that for maybe ten seconds. Then my successor hopped closer, curled his membranes around my hands, and grinned.

  “It’s good to see you, Cherijo.”

  “You too, Squilyp.”

  “On second thought, perhaps not.” He frowned as he caught sight of the dressing on my arm, and extended it for inspection. “What have you done to yourself now, you demented female?”

  “Just a little present from the Hsktskt.” I suppressed a grin, remembering all the other times the Omorr had been forced to patch me up.

  “She will tell us all at the reception in the galley,” Xonea said.

  “She will go straight to Medical so I can examine her properly first,” Squilyp said in his most authoritative tones, his gildrells flaring. He directed a scowl at me. “Do not even think of arguing about it, madam.”

  I was so proud of him I felt like crying. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Squid Lips.”

  Xonea and the crew promised to hold off on the formal reception for an hour, so I could make the Senior Healer happy. Squilyp personally escorted me to Medical. I passed my physical, although the Omorr did some ranting about the injuries recently inflicted on me.

  “Animals. Have they no regard for the sanctity of the body?” Despite the fact the wound was healed, he scanned me from head to toe. “Have you been experiencing any abnormal psychological effects?”

  I thought about the severe phobic reaction I’d had to the many PIC applications, and decided to tell him the truth. “I’ve been having panic attacks, probably due to a form of pyrophobia.”

  “You’re afraid of fire?”

  “No.” I tapped my arm. “I’m afraid of being burned.”

  He checked my eyes with an optic light. “How severe are the symptoms?”

  “Pretty bad. Hyperventilation, palpitations, severe anxiety, derealization. Some postattack depression.” I met his gaze. “I’ve gone into respiratory arrest a few times.”

  “We can treat it,” he said in a brisk, professional tone. “Psychotherapy, perhaps antidepressant drugs, if they’re required. Why are you grimacing like that?”

  “I don’t like admitting I have a problem, I guess.”

  “Cherijo.” He put the chart aside and got serious on me. “It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “You’re right, of course.” Fond as I was of Squilyp, I had little tolerance for my own weakness. “Well? Aside from the pyrophobia, do I pass?”

  “No. You are underweight and moderately malnourished.” He wrote up a nutritional plan and handed it to me to read.

  “I don’t like half the stuff on here,” I said, scowling.

  “I will hand feed you myself, if I must. Don’t be belligerent.” He double-checked my hands, then had me demonstrate my dexterity. “Incredible. Not a trace of the original injuries are present. Not even a scar.”

  I had penty of those. Just not where he could see them. “What’s the latest news from Joren?”

  “The Captain held a briefing this morning.” Squilyp infused me with some vitamins and had me recline for a second, full series of scans. “According to reports received from systems beyond Varallan, a massive League invasion of Hsktskt space has been initiated.”

  My heart sank. “So they really are going to war with the Faction.”

  “It need not concern us. The Jorenians have no treaty with the League, so there is no question of involvement. Let them exterminate each other; the galaxy will be better off, and you’ll finally be safe.

  “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not going back to Joren,” I said. He eyed me. “You know the minute I do the League will come after me.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” He frowned at something on his scanner, then at me. “These readings are off the grid for a Terran. I need to perform a full hematological series.”

  “I won’t match the database parameters,” I said. “And I want a copy of the results when you’re through.”

  His gildrells got stiff. “Eat the meals I’ve prescribed, and I’ll think about it.”

  The subsequent celebration we attended in the galley lasted several hours. Xonea, Salo, and a number of other department heads made long, flowery speeches. The medical staffers and nurses had some things to say, too. Squilyp kept bugging me to eat.

  I couldn’t enjoy myself, though I put up a good front. As soon as I could get away with it, I feigned weariness and asked Xonea to escort me to my quarters. My old quarters, I was delighted to see, as they had never been designated for another crew member.

  “It was a somewhat absurd promise I made to myself,” the Captain told me as he left me at the door panel. “As long as your rooms were not reassigned, I convinced myself your path would come back to us.” He pressed a large hand to my cheek. “Our House rejoices in your return, ClanSister.”

  I placed my hand over his. “Thanks for keeping the light burning, big brother.”

  Xonea departed, and Jenner emerged to demand some attention.

  Where have you been? His rough tongue rasped over my fingertips. I’m starving.

  “You’re always hungry,” I said, and put him down to prepare his evening meal.

  I’m always being neglected. He attacked the syntuna fillet with delicate greed.

  I found myself in front o
f the room console, hoping someone had intercepted a message from Noarr or Wonlee. A quick scan revealed nothing from either of them, but it was probably too soon to expect they’d drugged enough of the centurons to get to the main security grids.

  My intership relay file was, on the other hand, packed with personal signals from the crew. Several other relays had been saved for me, as well. One of them, a lengthy signal originating from Fendagal XI, had been encrypted for my view only.

  I signaled Ship’s Operational, and Salo personally responded.

  “Now that you’ve been promoted to second in command,” I said, “you’re supposed to get a crew member to handle the nuisance calls, you know.”

  He gave me a warm smile. “You are never a nuisance, Healer. How may I be of assistance?”

  I identified the encrypted signal in my console to him by the routing tag, then asked if he’d pre-screened it. He shook his head.

  “I but verified that the League did not code the signal with tracking receptors, Healer. It is safe to decode.”

  I knew who’d sent it. The only person involved with the League who cared to signal a genetic construct. His genetic construct.

  I used the encryption program and accessed the relay.

  The image of Joseph Grey Veil appeared on the screen. The first thing I noticed was how much younger and healthier he was than the last time I’d seen him. Of course, the last time I’d seen him he’d abandoned me to the Hsktskt, and was headed back to Terra to create another victim.

  “This signal is intended for the Terran female Cherijo Grey Veil, currently being held by the Hsktskt Faction on the slave-depot asteroid Catopsa.”

  “Not anymore, Joe.” I sat back and studied my fatherIbrother’s face. He’d had some microdermal work done around his mouth and eyes, I decided. The man looked almost as young as I did. He’d also dyed his hair. Absently I fingered the lock of pure silver in my own.

  “I have no doubt you will endeavor to escape from the Hsktskt, my child, which is why I am sending this entreaty.”

  “An entreaty,” I said to the screen. “That’s a switch.”

  “I want you to see this for yourself.” He stepped to one side, and a strange-looking apparatus came into view. My hands clenched when I recognized what it was-and what was in it. “This is the thirty-ninth triial specimen I have created since returning to Terra. Unfortunately, like the other trials before it, the experiment proved completely unsuccessful.”

  An unsuccessful experiment. That was what he called the grotesquely deformed baby, suspended in his synthetic embryonic chamber. Fabric tore under my nails.

  “I have no choice but to appeal to you now, Cherijo. Of all my trials, you remain the only viable prototype specimen in existence. I have failed.”

  I couldn’t quite grasp that. After all, my creator had never failed before.

  “By now you must know the unique qualities afforded by your enhanced immune system. I have discovered that I cannot replicate the triumph I achieved with you. I am certain that will give you a great deal of satisfaction.”

  I would have settled for a gun. Or a chair with tougher upholstery.

  “I have convinced the Allied League to engage the Hsktskt, and hope that will provide an opportunity for you to escape your current predicament.”

  I snorted. “Oh, so that’s why you signaled the Hsktskt and told them all about it.”

  “The Jorenians will provide aid, and doubtless offer you sanctuary again. I advise you think carefully before accepting it.”

  “You’re not going to get another shot at Joren, Joe.”

  “Secure sanctuary on any world will be at a premium, my dear.” He chuckled, but it was a strained, fake sound. “We are both in dire straits, are we not?”

  “You’re in dire straits. I have friends.”

  “I have sent a drone-manned ship to the following coordinates.” A series of numbers flashed across the screen. “I consider it a gesture of good faith. Here is the blueprint of the vessel.”

  The schematic replaced the coordinates on the vid.

  “Mother of All Houses.” He hadn’t sent me a ship. He’d sent me the largest and fastest Allied star transport in existence. And if this was a simple I’m-sorry-for-experimenting-on-you gift, I was a Yturi. “Gee, I feel terrible. I didn’t get you anything.”

  “Use it to go wherever you want, but I hope you will consider returning to Terra. I will not compel you to take part in my research. My goal now is understanding, and reconciliation.”

  Understanding. Reconciliation. In a pig’s eye. “Sure you don’t want to harvest some cell samples?”

  “I look forward to the day I can apologize to you in person. Until then, I bid you farewell, daughter.”

  The signal terminated. I sat there for a long time, staring at the blank screen. I wasn’t buying his change of heart, of course. Surely he realized I wouldn’t. Just what was he up to now?

  I returned to Medical the next morning, and pulled my chart before Squilyp came on duty.

  Adaola, who was primary for the shift, hovered nervously around the desk as I reviewed the laboratory series.

  “The Senior Healer will be glad to discuss your test results as soon as he arrives, Healer.”

  “I was the Senior Healer, Adaola. Stop pestering me.” I looked up and gave her a wink. “Besides, that Omorr could probably use a good fight about now.”

  “Or a syrinpress.” Squilyp hopped in through the door panel. “As I expected. All is well, Adaola. You may prepare your shift notes while I deal with our impatient intruder.”

  “Thank you, Senior Healer,” Adaola said with sincere relief, then departed.

  “I’m not impatient.” I found the blood profile and studied it in silence. “I’m...” A protein level caught my eye, and a faint buzz began ringing in my ears. “Oh, boy. I’m in trouble.”

  “No, you are not.” Squilyp took the chart out of my numb hands and tossed it aside. “We will deal with it, Doctor.”

  He might be able to, I thought as I got to my feet. I was petrified. The buzz grew louder. A moment later I was sitting back in the chair, with Squilyp pushing my head between my knees.

  “Breathe slowly. You have had quite a shock.”

  That was the understatement of the century.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Last Captive

  Squilyp and I argued for an hour after I nearly fainted, then decided on a course of action to our mutual satisfaction.

  “I expect you to report to Medical as I’ve indicated.” The Omorr handed me a copy of my treatment schedule. “Or I will have you restrained to an inpatient berth.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be here.” I climbed down from the exam table. “I bet you’re going to enjoying ordering me around.”

  “Of course I will.” He finished his notes and switched off my chart with a snap. “You certainly enjoyed being my supervisor when you were Senior Healer. Actually, this has a sort of poetic justice to it.”

  His smirk really annoyed me. “Oh, go jump in a pressure lock!”

  Later that day, the Jorenians began bombarding the surface again, and dodging the reflected sonic fire. Since my condition wasn’t anything that would slow me down for a while yet, I’d convinced the Omorr to let me work a shift. Good thing, too, since the few crew members reporting with minor injuries soon became a steady stream.

  “We’ve received a signal from the stockade,” one of the communications officers told me as I splinted his sprained knee. “League captives have been effective in taking control of several tiers.”

  So Wonlee’s plan had started to work. “What about the rest of the compound?”

  “It remains under Hsktskt control.” The officer didn’t want to tell me the rest, but I harassed him until he did. Less than optimistic reports had also come in, that the centurons had begun methodically executing prisoners inside Hsktskt-controlled areas.

  I signaled Xonea, and requested that I be transported back to the surface.


  “That is impossible, Cherijo. We have ground forces preparing to invade the compound.”

  “Then I’m going with them.” When he would have yelled at me, I shook my head. “I have friends down there, Captain. And you need someone to head the medevac team. There will be plenty of work waiting for me.”

  Reluctantly Xonea granted my request. That made Squilyp throw his own temper tantrum, and upon hearing I was returning to the surface, half the inpatients in Medical began verbally threatening to mutiny and throw me into detainment.

  “I know the compound better than anyone on the assault teams,” I said, crossing my arms and looking down the row of grim faces and emerging claws.

  “In your condition-“

  “Space my condition,” I told the Omorr. “There are over fifteen thousand prisoners down there-the Hsktskt are shooting them, and I left a first-year resident in charge of the infirmary.”

  He glowered at me. “Just remember, Doctor, you have other responsibilities.”

  Before I reported to the launch bay, Salo relayed a direct signal from the Hsktskt Central Command, sent by OverMaster HalaVar.

  “Reever?” I took a medevac pack and slung it over my shoulder, then accessed the signal. “What’s your status down there?”

  “OverSeer FurreVa and a portion of the guards have deposed SrrokVar and placed me in charge of the compound.” He looked sweaty, and grime streaked his hair, but other than that, he could have been having tea with the Hanar.

  “Why’d they do that? I thought you weren’t a member of the Faction anymore.”

  “Upon arrival on the Hsktskt homeworld, TssVar officially reinstated my rank. The order to depose SrrokVar came from the Hanar himself.”

  “That was nice of him.” I checked to make sure I had enough suture packs. “Tell FurreVa to stop executing the prisoners.”

  “I have. There are still some centurons loyal to SrrokVar, however, who have disregarded my orders.” He turned away for a moment to consult with a waiting centuron, then addressed me once more. “Stay with the Jorenians, Cherijo.”

  “Uh-uh. I’m on the way.”