Beyond Varallan

by neetha Napew

  “Speaking of signals, has anyone checked your console lately?” I asked.

  Salo hurried over, and scrolled through the intership file. “No, there is-“ He paused, then pulled up a data-only screen. “There is a message here for Fasala. From you, Senior Healer.”

  I looked over his broad shoulder. “Salo, I never sent this.” I read through the brief message. Someone pretending to be me had requested that Fasala meet them on level fourteen. The exact place where Fasala had been injured. “Has anyone checked the storage area on that level?”

  “She would not go there,” Salo said. “Fasala knows the area has been restricted.”

  “She might do it for me.” I was thinking of the talk I’d had with her about facing her fears.

  Salo immediately signaled Operational. “Send a team down to fourteen at once.”

  We ran. Two levels down from Sale’s quarters, an impressive display of warning signs and portable barriers barred access to the storage facility. I noticed there was enough space for someone my size or smaller to duck under and crawl through. One of the barriers stood slightly askew.

  “She’s been here.” I pointed to the jostled unit. Salo began ripping the equipment out of his path, tossing the heavy units aside like toys. I stayed out of range until he cleared the entrance panel.

  “Fasala? Fasala!” he shouted as the door panel slid open. “Answer me, child!”

  I picked my way around the discarded barriers and followed him into the storage facility. There was an eerie hollow feeling here, where weeks ago the buffer had shattered backward and hurt the little girl. Something was wrong. The fine hair on my arms and nape felt the ghostly brush of energy gathering around us.

  “Salo! We have to get out of here! Now!”

  “I must find her!”

  I saw a faint ripple in the buffer covering the repaired hole in the hull.

  “No!” I shouted, and tackled the Jorenian. Surprise was the only reason I knocked him down behind one of the large cargo bins. I landed right on top of him. He rolled me off and thrust me behind him.

  A flash of blinding light appeared above us. The smell of melting alloys stung my nose, while a two-meter circular section of the cargo bin began to dissolve right next to us. I pushed myself up, and yelled as I yanked on his arm. “We have to go! Come on!”

  We staggered away from the damaged bin. I looked back and saw a solid beam of energy pouring from the buffer itself into the metal where moments before we had been standing. The beam was nearly transparent, but hummed with menacing power. I glanced back at the buffer.

  Just as the beam cut off, I saw a flickering, rainbow-fringed circle of light.

  Salo hauled me out of the facility and sealed the door. He panted and his face dripped sweat. “What was that?” he demanded.

  “That’s what killed Roelm and Ndo,” I replied, gasping for breath. “The same thing that hurt Fasala and her educators.”

  “It has done something to me as well.” He lifted the edge of his tunic, and I saw his abdomen rapidly turning a mottled purple.

  “Medical.” I pointed to the gyrlift. “Right now.”

  “My Fasala-“

  “We’ll find her. Right now I have to see what kind of damage that thing did to you.”

  He nodded, already pale and shaking with reaction. I pulled one of his long arms around my shoulders and got him into the gyrlift.

  Salo collapsed just as we reached Medical. Immediately two nurses and Squilyp were there to help me maneuver his big frame onto an exam pad. Adaola gasped when I opened his tunic. His entire abdomen was badly bruised.

  “Scan him for internal damage,” I told the Omorr. “I’ve got to signal the Captain.”

  At the display, I waited impatiently until my emergency relay was put through. Xonea listened as I reported what had happened.

  “Have you located the girl yet?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “Search teams have been recalled. We must transition now.”

  “Someone has to tell Darea,” I told him, then looked over my shoulder. “Report on Salo!”

  “His spleen and pancreas are ruptured!” Squilyp yelled back. “He needs surgery, now!”

  “Prep him. Surgical team, prepare for emergency procedure!” I turned back to the display. “How long until transition?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “I can’t do this kind of surgery that fast!” I told him. “Can you transition sooner?”

  Xonea’s mouth thinned. “Five minutes.”

  “Do it, if you want Salo to live.” I reached for the keypad.

  “Cherijo.” I looked up at the screen. “Will he remain on the path?”

  “Salo has Fasala and Darea. Two very good reasons to stick to the path.” I gave Xonea a half-smile. “Not to mention one of the best cutters in the quadrant working on him.”

  “Keep me advised. Prepare for emergency transition.”

  I yelled at the Omorr and the surgical team, who were frantically readying for the operation. “Hold it. The ship is going to transition first. We need to put Salo in sleep suspension, now.” I gestured to most of the nurses and my resident. “Prep the patients. Adaola, you’re with me. Move it, people!”

  Adaola and I just managed to get Salo under as the ship transitioned. We helped each other off the deck once reality righted itself and checked Salo.

  “He’s going into shock anyway!” Adaola cried out as we pulled him back out of suspension. “Blood pressure is dropping!”

  “One hundred ccs of synepinephrine,” I said as I increased oxygen flow. Sale’s damaged tissues had begun to flood with fluid. I injected him with the bronchodilator drug. “Get his legs up, Adaola. That’s it. Vitals look better.” I stared at the monitor for a moment. “That’s how they died. That’s why Fasala went into shock. Proximity to the beam creates stress on the system. Direct exposure causes the cellular disruption.”

  “Senior Healer?” Adaola asked. She looked worried. I shook my head to clear it.

  “Never mind. Prep him for surgery. I want him ready in two minutes.” I put down my scanner and ran into the scrub room. My team was already geared and waiting. The Omorr hopped in after me. “Report.”

  “Minor injuries keep coming in, but we can handle it on the ward,” Squilyp said. “Salo?”

  “Anaphylactic shock brought on by proximity to intense sonic-based energy. Someone tried to shoot us with it.”

  “There is no such thing as a sonic-based weapon-“

  “Oh yeah?” I finished scrubbing and snapped on my gloves. “I saw it, Squilyp. Salo used his body to shield mine. It melted a damn cargo bin right in front of us.”

  The Omorr’s expression was comical. “But the only thing capable of doing that is-“

  “-a resonant harmonicutter, I’ll guess.”

  He nodded.

  “Squilyp, I know you said these things are huge, that they couldn’t fit one inside the ship. What if someone found a way to make one out of available materials here on the ship?” I put my mask and the rest of my gear on. “Is it possible someone is using this thing to kill our people?”

  His gildrells flared. “If they could build it, we’d see it. It would have to be nearly as large as the entire ship.”

  “So what is almost as large as the ship that we see everyday that could be a harmonicutter?”

  “Nothing. I’ve never seen a single piece of equipment that size-“

  Neither had I. That was it. “Maybe we can’t see it.” The Omorr looked at me. We were thinking the same thought. Said the same words together. “The buffer.”

  Sale’s surgery lasted six hours. I successfully avoided a complete pancreatectomy, by repairing the small ruptures in both the head and body of the organ. The Jorenian exocrine tissue was remarkably resilient; the same damage would have killed a Terran. Once I’d salvaged the main duct, I removed the pancreatic tail and linked the remainder of the repaired organ with part of Sale’s small intestine.

  The larger
problem during the operation was presented by Salo’s spleen. In a Terran, the tiny organ usually weighed no more than seven ounces. In a Jorenian, it was five times that weight and triple the volume. Standard procedure on Terra required a splenectomy; in adult humans there were virtually no ill effects after complete removal.

  My friend Salo, however, had not one but three arteries leading into his spleen. He hemorrhaged from two of them. Jorenian spleens not only removed worn-out blood cells and fought infection, but also regulated their digestive and immune systems, too. If I removed it, he would die in a matter of days.

  Operating to repair a spleen compared to the most delicate of neuro repairs. Once I clamped off the bleeders, I had to work through the tiny forest of arterial branches, suturing the torn lymph tissue itself. I imagined sewing a sponge back together without leaving any stitch marks. This ranked slightly below that. I was working against time as well. We had lowered Salo’s body temperature, but the spleen would not survive being cut off from the blood supply very long.

  “Tissue looks healthy,” I muttered as the nurse blotted my brow. “Salo may be a nice guy and regenerate some of this on his own.” I finished repairing the torn arteries and released the clamps. A near-black color returned at once to the pale organ. In this species, black meant healthy. “Looks good.” I inspected the remainder of his open abdomen. “Anyone have an objection to me closing this patient? Anyone really brave enough to tell me, that is?”

  Everyone chuckled.

  “Good. Let’s wrap it up.”

  After I finished suturing the long surgical incision down the center of his torso, I stripped off my gloves and rubbed the back of my neck.

  “Move him into post-op,” I said. “I want two nurses monitoring him until he regains consciousness.”

  I went out to the scrub room and cleaned up before I returned to the ward. I was surprised to see Xonea there. Adaola was running a scanner over him. I went over and gave him a brief summary of the operation on Salo.

  “Has someone informed Darea?” I asked once I’d finished.

  Xonea shook his head. “We could not locate her.”

  “She’s in her quarters. I left her there with Hado just before Salo was injured.”

  “You don’t understand. While you were operating on Salo, Darea disappeared. Just like Fasala.” He grimaced and leaned forward, favoring his abdomen.

  “For God’s sake!” I snatched the scanner from Adaola and checked the display. “Just what I thought. All the stress is eating holes in your stomach.”

  “I do not require an examination!” Xonea grated, and pushed off the table. I checked the last of the readings and caught my breath.

  “Get back on there. Now.”

  “Cherijo-“

  “Now!” I ran the scanner over him one more time to be sure. While he sat there, digging his fingers into the exam pad, I went to the database display and entered the scanner readings. What the diagnostic array returned made me want to spit. I went back over to the exam table and planted my hands on my hips.

  “What the hell are you doing, eating jaspforran? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  Xonea’s wrathful expression faded. “Jaspforran? I have not taken any of that wretched herb. Why would I?”

  “Don’t lie to me! You’ve got so much in your bloodstream it’s starting to penetrate your gastric lining!” I said. “No wonder you’ve been so out of control! That stuff will... that will...” I halted at the obvious confusion he displayed. “You really didn’t eat any?”

  He shook his head.

  I ran the scanner a third time. Found nothing in his stomach, except for traces of jaspkerry tea and the high levels of the warrior’s herb.

  “What does this stuff taste like? Jaspkerry spice?” He nodded. I ran the scanner over myself, then put it down. “Well, that explains a lot.”

  “What say you?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” After I administered a mild tranquilizer to Xonea to counter the effects of the jaspforran, I signaled Hado. The navigator responded from his duty station.

  “Hado? Weren’t you going to stay with Darea?”

  “I was, Senior Healer, until I was signaled to return at once to Command Level.” He made a slightly frustrated gesture. “In error, as it happens. I will return to her quarters now.”

  “Don’t bother, she’s not there.” The next person I tried was Ktarka. The educator appeared to have just stepped out of her cleansing unit.

  She smiled at the screen. “Yes, Senior Healer?”

  “Is Darea there with you?”

  “No, she is not. After I heard the news about Fasala, I signaled her. She wished to be alone, she said.” The Jorenian woman frowned as she tugged her towel higher. “Has the child been found?”

  “No, and now Darea is missing.” I tried to smile reassuringly. “Sorry, Educator. It’s a long story. I’ll get back to you when I find her.”

  “Signal me if you need my assistance.”

  Squilyp had been listening and now waited for me as I walked from the display. “You’re going to look for Darea?”

  “Yes. Something isn’t right about all this. Why would two members of a ClanFamily disappear, and the third receive serious injuries, all on the same day?”

  “Unfortunate coincidence?” the Omorr said.

  “Or they all have a connection to the killer.”

  I went directly to Salo and Darea’s quarters, to see if Fasala or her ClanMother had returned there. The rooms were silent.

  I went into Fasala’s room, and even checked under the sleeping platform. Nothing but a rather dusty plasball under there. I opened the storage containers, and even the compartment where the child had carefully put her clean garments. Aside from the usual contents, they were empty.

  When I returned to the living area, I smelled a trace of something odd. Cleanser? I stepped past the sofa, and heard a faint squishing sound. Beneath my footgear, the loose, fluffy weave of the area rug was damp. I bent down and sniffed at it. The odor was much stronger. Had Darea spilled some tea? The wet area disappeared beneath the bottom edge of the sofa, so I pushed it back to see what was under it.

  There were several green splotches on the rug beneath the sofa. My fingers gingerly touched one of them.

  Jorenian blood. Wet. Fresh.

  I got to my feet and ran into the larger bedroom, calling Darea’s name. I pulled the room apart, opening everything large enough to contain her body. The cleansing unit was empty. Nothing under the bed. I sagged against it for a moment, resting my cheek on the soft coverlet. When I opened my eyes, I saw what had happened to Darea.

  I contacted Barrea in Engineering first, then sent a coded signal to the ship’s linguist. It took a moment to receive his reply.

  “It will work, but why do you wish to do this, Senior Healer?” Barrea asked over our secured channel,

  “I know who the killer is.”

  An hour later I sent out five more signals. Within minutes, Hado, Adaola, Xonea, Ktarka, and Reever showed up at Darea’s door panel. They looked at each other, then at me. Adaola appeared nervous. Hado and Ktarka seemed bewildered. Reever’s expression never changed. Xonea glared at me.

  “Come in, please.” I gestured to the empty room behind me. “I need to speak to all of you.”

  Xonea folded his arms. “Senior Healer, I have no time-“

  “Shut up and sit down, Captain.” I set out servers of tea and sat down in the chair I’d set a foot back from the rest of the furnishings. “Try the tea. It’s real jaspkerry,” I told Xonea. “I programmed it myself.”

  “Senior Healer, have you word of Darea or Fasala?” Ktarka asked.

  “Not exactly. I came here looking for Darea, and found some blood on the floor.” I pointed. “Right there where Adaola is sitting.”

  The Jorenian nurse lifted her footgear at once.

  “Don’t worry. It’s under the sofa. When I found the blood, I scanned it. The DNA matches Darea’s perfectly. Is she dead?” I
looked at each intent face. Not a flicker of reaction. “Well, I suppose if I was a cold-blooded killer, I’d hardly volunteer the information.”

  That icy formality the Jorenians were capable of settled over my little group. They became big blue statues. Reever stood to one side, silently watching me.

  Hado’s gentle eyes narrowed. “You believe one of us diverted Darea’s path?”

  “Cherijo, this is not amusing,” Xonea said. “If you have information about the murders, tell me now.”

  “I’m getting to that part. Hado, let me ask you a question: What’s the first thing you do after you invent a weapon?” The navigator appeared confused. “You test it. In a remote place, like the storage compartment on level fourteen. On a live subject, like Fasala Torin.”

  “No one could want to deliberately hurt an innocent child,” Ktarka said in protest.

  “The killer had a reason for using Fasala as a test subject.” I smiled at her. “But I’ll get to that later, too.”

  “What weapon do you speak of, Healer?” Hado asked me.

  “The killer created a resonant harmonicutter here on board the Sunlace.”

  “No level on this ship is large enough to contain a harmonicutter!”

  I smiled. “You’re right, Hado, you can’t fit a harmonicutter on the ship. But you can use the ship’s buffer to store energy, and act like a harmonicutter.”

  “That kind of technology doesn’t exist!”

  “It does now. I’m no engineer, so I checked with someone who is. A smaller device would have to be placed on the buffer to release the power in a focused sonic beam. Once the victim was located and targeted, a remote unit could be used to trigger the beam.”

  “Then why wasn’t Fasala killed?” Adaola asked.

  “What the killer couldn’t predict was that Fasala’s educators would come looking for her. My theory is that the killer tried to protect the two adult women and reversed the power flow. The sudden stress from the backlash made the buffer shatter.”

  I sipped my tea as I let that sink in, then continued.

  “Before the killer could try again, Roelm Torin noticed the engine surge. Did you know Roelm was one of the Sunlace’s original designers? He knew those engines better than anyone. He must have figured out what the killer was doing. He was on his way to Engineering when he was murdered.”