Beyond Varallan

by neetha Napew

  “You will grow accustomed to it. Come,” Xonea said. “We will take you to our pavillion, and there you can rest.”

  Reever didn’t seem affected by the change at all.

  “You’re human,” I said to him when we arrived at a large, beautiful, shell-shaped structure that served as headquarters for HouseClan Torin. “Why aren’t you turning green?”

  “I spent two years on a world with twice this atmosphere,” he replied. “This is vaguely irritating compared to that experience.”

  “I bet.” One of the many relatives I now had gestured toward a suite of rooms, and I groaned in relief. “At last. See you later, Reever.”

  The rooms were spacious and simply furnished, with the style of Jorenian minimalism I was beginning to appreciate. There were square-shaped vases of many different flowers, all in the exquisite shades of HouseClan Torin blue. Furnishings were fashioned from dried, woven plant fibers that looked airy but were surprisingly strong. Even the fabrics covering the cushions of the chairs were soft and sank deliciously beneath my fingers. I opened Jenner’s carrier, and he darted out.

  I’m going to get even with you for this, he glared at me before he darted under a chair. I was too tired to go after him.

  I didn’t realize Reever had walked in behind me until he closed the door to the bedroom I had entered. I stopped my direct path to the sleeping platform and whirled.

  “I appreciate the offer of company, Reever, but-“

  “These quarters have been assigned to both of us,” he said. “I’m told they are reserved for those who have recently Chosen.”

  “Why would they-“ My jaw dropped. “You told them we were getting married?”

  “No. I believe Xonea did.” He crossed the distance between us and invited me to sit down on the bed. I flopped on it, falling on my back and burying my face in my hands.

  “This is not happening to me.” I peeked through my fingers. “Let me guess. They want us to follow Jorenian tradition?” He nodded. “Have they already prepared the usual week-long celebrations?” Another nod. “And you intend to go through with it?”

  “You made your Choice public, Cherijo.”

  “Why is it always my fault?” I dropped my hands. “Okay. You can stay here and sleep on the sofa. But I am not, repeat, not bonding with you.”

  “You may have no other option.” He got up and went to the triangular set of windows overlooking the sea view. The rosy light from outside softened the harsh set of his features. His lips curled in an imitation of a human smile as he pointed at something. “Look.”

  I squinted against the strong light and saw a group of Jorenians putting the finishing touches on what appeared, to be an enormous heap of flowers and vines.

  “What is that?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

  “Our bonding chamber.”

  Adala interrupted our discussion to inquire if we desired to dine in our rooms or join the communal feast. I had put!down Tenner’s food and water, but had no success in coaxing him out from under the sleeping platform. Adala thought he simply needed time to adjust to the alien atmosphere.

  I was sure he was plotting his revenge campaign.

  “After the succession ceremony, we will be celebrating your Choice, Cherijo,” my adopted ClanMother said. “I have been told the arrival of our HouseClan’s vessel has spurred ten more Choices. Xonal and I will be on the chamber grounds for the next month in preparation!”

  Her protests didn’t fool me. Like most moms, I bet she loved the fuss and ceremony.

  “I’d like to have permission to visit your medical facility before the ceremony begins.” I glanced at Reever. “With my... Chosen.”

  “Ever the dutiful professional.” Her white eyes shone with pride. “Of course, a ship’s Senior Healer would do no less. You are free to do exactly as you wish.” She held up a finger. “Until tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Adala,” Reever said, seeing me fumbling for a reply.

  “Call me ClanMother,” she said, and stared at his eyes. “Why, they change color!”

  “A human mutation.” I quickly pulled Reever out of our rooms, then called back over my shoulder, “We’ll see you at the ceremony, ClanMother.”

  We walked down through the lower level and out of the main house. “You’ve got to stop doing that,” I said.

  “Doing what?” Reever asked me.

  “That color-changing thing with your eyes.” I peered into his face. “They’re green again.”

  Reever didn’t comment on his annoying habit. “Where is the medical facility?”

  “Over there.” I pointed to a smaller building set back from the HouseClan colony. “Xonea showed it to me earlier.”

  “There is something I must do before the ceremony. I will meet you later.” He abruptly turned and headed off in the opposite direction.

  Was I relieved to have some time to myself? Yes.

  From what I saw, the Medical Facility was even finer than the ship’s accommodations. Out of courtesy, I went first to the facility director’s offices. A smiling administrative assistant escorted me to see the Director, an older man named Sberea, who embraced me like a long-lost daughter.

  “I have received many, many signals detailing your work, Healer Cherijo.” Sberea released me with a smile. “Tonetka thought you the most gifted surgeon she had ever known.”

  “She probably grumbled about how stubborn and opinionated I am, too,” I said. Feeling the usual intense depression that thoughts of Tonetka always brought on, I asked after my three patients.

  Sberea insisted he take me to them himself. As we walked to the inpatient wards, he discussed the individual cases with me.

  “Salo continues to improve. I was astonished by your work, especially to the spleen. Few Jorenian surgeons would have attempted that operation.” We halted by Sale’s berth, and Sberea offered the chart for my inspection. Since the big man was sleeping, I made only a quick scan to confirm he was rapidly healing without complications.

  From there, Sberea and I made our way to the isolation chamber. Until Fasala’s weakened immune system was stronger, she remained quarantined to prevent potentially lethal infections.

  “Greetings, Senior Healer, Cherijo.” Darea put down the book she was reading to Fasala and both walked over to the transparent chamber barrier.

  “Hello, Darea.” I bent down to hold a hand to the plas wall. On the other side, Fasala did the same against mine. “Hi, Fasala. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better.” The little girl rubbed her head. “Only this feels strange, Healer Cherijo. ClanMother says my scalp is prettier than my hair was. What do you think?”

  “I think you look great, honey.” Alive was better than anything, I thought. And her beautiful black hair would grow back in. We chatted for a few minutes, then Fasala went back to her berth. Sberea asked her mother a few questions as he made chart notes.

  “She eats very well now. The nightmares... are less.” Darea made a frustrated gesture, then rubbed her left arm absently and continued in a lower tone, “If only I had known Ktarka meant to... strike back at Konal through us. All of this could have been... avoided.”

  Sberea made a commiserating sound. “She is gone forever from us, Darea. Her own madness punished her more than you or Salo could have.”

  I doubted that. I’d seen Salo taking a mercenary apart before. I looked over their charts as Sberea excused himself to take a direct signal in his office. I frowned when I came across a notation where Darea had complained of occasional migraines.

  “Excuse me, Darea, these headaches Sberea has noted-are they unusual for you?”

  She nodded. “I have never had many, or with such... frequency.”

  Darea had never been a woman to mince words, so her new habit of searching for a phrase concerned me. So did the way she had been rubbing her bicep before. “Did you hurt your arm?”

  “No. It feels... numb at times,” she replied, and looked around her. “This chamber is quite cramped
.”

  “Any numbness in your legs?”

  She patted her left thigh. “This one, but like my arm... infrequently. Why do you ask, Healer?”

  “Just checking. Would you excuse me for a moment?” I left them and returned to Sberea’s office with Darea’s chart. “Can I discuss something with you, Senior Healer?”

  “Of course. Come in.”

  I went over his chart notations with him, and he frowned.

  “It did not occur to me that the headaches were unusual. She has been uneasy over Fasala’s progress, and the enforced confinement. I believed they were wrought by tension.” His brows drew together as he read my notation about the numbness complaint. “Both on the left side. She never mentioned it to me.”

  “She thinks it’s from lack of exercise. Have you noticed the occasional aphasia she’s experiencing?” He nodded. “When was the last brain scan . .?” I flipped through the chart display, and frowned. “She hasn’t had one since the initial eval.”

  Sberea’s wise gaze met mine. “We should perform one at once.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  To the Last Warrior

  We returned to the isolation chamber together, and donned envirosuits before entering. Once sealed inside, Sberea and I scanned Darea several times. Through the protective headgear, I saw Sberea’s reaction to the display. Mine was the same.

  We told Darea we would return after a brief discussion, and left her with Fasala. In Sberea’s office, he shook his head as he transferred the scanner data onto his main display.

  “I never saw it on any of the previous scans.”

  The image of Darea’s brain showed a crescent-shaped bilateral extra-axial fluid collection, a mass of blood leaking from one or more ruptured bridging veins in the subdural space of the cranial meninges.

  “According to the database, Jorenian physiology can render the hematoma isodense for quite some time after the initial injury.” I checked Darea’s chart. “That made it look so much like the rest of her brain that anyone could have missed it.”

  “You are kind to an old man, Healer Cherijo. Will you perform the surgery?”

  I nodded. “We’d better go tell her.”

  Darea listened carefully as I explained the source of her headaches and muscle weakness.

  “When Ktarka struck you, it caused a rotational movement of your brain. That stretched and ultimately tore a blood vessel between the brain parenchyma and the dural sinuses, inside of the dura mater.” I indicated the affected area on her chart display. “Over time, the vessel has been bleeding into the space between the dura mater and the arachnoid, or middle meningeal layer. The trapped blood formed a clot. We refer to it as a subdural hemorrhage, Darea.”

  “What must be done, Senior Healer?” she asked.

  “I’m going to perform a surgical procedure called a cra-niotomy,” I replied. “We’ll drain the blood clot, then I can repair the torn vessel. We need to do this surgery as soon as possible.” Darea looked frightened. I hurried to reassure her. “I’ve performed this procedure a hundred times, Darea. Don’t worry.”

  “And if I do not have this surgery?” Darea asked.

  Sberea and I exchanged a glance before I answered. “Then in all likelihood Fasala will grow up without her ClanMother.”

  She visibly collected herself. “Very well. Please do not tell Salo, he will worry.” I wasn’t crazy about that-he was her mate, after all-but nodded. “And I would see my Speaker before the operation.”

  I saw red at once. “You are not going to start that let-me-die nonsense, are you?”

  Darea shook her head. “No. But I would like to make my wishes known, in the event I do not survive the surgery.”

  “She has so much confidence in me,” I said to Sberea, then eyed my patient. “Okay, Darea. Talk to your Speaker. We’ll have a good laugh about it when you’re in post-op recovery.”

  She looked back at her sleeping child. “I will wish for nothing else, Healer Cherijo.”

  I sent a signal back to the pavillion informing Xonal and Adala of the impending procedure on their ClanNiece. We scrubbed while Sberea’s nurses completed the preparations. He assembled a scrub team with experience in open cranial procedures, and discharge-sterilized the surgical suite. An hour later, we were in place and ready to begin.

  Darea’s shaved head was in the secluding halo that would hold it completely immobile during the delicate operation. I powered up the laser rig and made the primary incisions. That exposed the portion of Darea’s skull that I had to temporarily remove.

  “Stats, please.”

  The nurse rattled off Darea’s vitals, all normal.

  “Here we go,” I said, and began cutting carefully inside the markers. “Clamp.” I pinned back the outer layers, cauterized two bleeders, and instructed the nurse to suction the small amount of blood from the site. The dark grey gleam of Darea’s cranium shone in the bright light. “She’s looking good.” I checked her stats again, then said, “Parietal drill.”

  I made a series of burr holes in the parietal plate. Those allowed me to safely cut through the skull. Once all the holes were drilled, I placed a plasguide around them, adjusted the lascalpel, and cut out the section. I lifted the bone away and set it aside on a tray for later replacement. Darea’s brain was now completely exposed, along with a large, dark green clot.

  “There’s the culprit,” I said, and carefully drained away the coagulated blood. Beneath it, I saw not one but three tiny vessels still seeping from ruptures. “Make that a trio.”

  Sberea leaned close. “You’ll have to go carefully with the center vessel. That one appears to have the greatest damage.”

  A gigantic crash behind us made both of us jump and swing around. Salo came hurtling through the observation panel and landed heavily on the floor. Before I could react, he was on his feet and coming at me, his white eyes slits of rage.

  “Salo?” I handed Sberea the lascalpel and pushed him behind me. “Calm down.”

  “My mate.” He was clutching his abdomen and breathing heavily. He looked at Darea, and growled like an animal.

  “No, Salo. Darea is all right. I’m not hurting her. I’m operating on her.” I winced when he hit the sterile field, and the resulting bioelectrical charge sent him staggering backward. “Don’t do that. You can’t get through it.”

  “I declare you... my ClanKill.” Salo thrust himself against the barrier again, and this time bounced off and collapsed.

  “Salo!” I yelled when he pushed himself up. New blood stained his dressings. “Stop it!”

  Behind me, I could hear suction being used. “Healer, he will not stop until he kills you, or dies,” Sberea said.

  “I don’t think so.” I reached over, grabbed what I needed from the set-up tray, then deactivated the sterile field. Sberea made a startled sound. Once I’d stepped outside generator range, I immediately reinstated the field. That protected Sberea and Darea, but left me locked out with Salo.

  Once he got to his feet, he immediately lunged toward me.

  “Salo, listen to me.” I quickly stepped out of the way. “I wasn’t hurting her. Darea needs this operation. She-“

  “You lie.” He came at me again, and this time caught the front of my gown. His claws slashed through the outer layers of my gear as he threw me to the floor and straddled me.

  There was no reasoning with a rampaging male bent on protection. I got one arm up, feigning a block, and used the other to push the syrinpress in my hand against his throat.

  We stared at each other for a long moment.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  A moment later, the big warrior toppled over, unconscious.

  Sberea deactivated the field just as another doctor and two nurses appeared outside the ruined panel. “Get this man back to his berth, restrain him, and run complete scans. Report back to me at once if he has sustained further internal damage.” As they removed Salo, Sberea bent down and lifted me to my feet. “Healer, are you injured?”

>   I wasn’t, but my gear was ruined. Since we’d both been contaminated through touch, Sberea and I had to scrub and gear up all over again. A worried assistant monitored Darea until we returned to the table.

  I took a steadying breath and recalibrated the laser. “All right. Here we go.”

  Two hours later, I finished sewing Darea’s scalp back in place and watched her monitor. She was strong; her levels never wavered throughout the delicate procedure. Sberea looked exhausted. I flexed my cramped hands as I stripped off my gloves and deactivated the sterile field.

  “That’s all, people. Take her into post-op. I want her revived in thirty minutes.” I walked out to where Xonal and Adala were waiting.

  The ClanMother touched my arm. “How fares Darea?”

  “She made it through the procedure without a problem. She’s going to be fine.” I looked down the rows of inpatient berths. “Salo, however, jumped through a plas panel and tried to kill me.”

  Xonal and Adala stared at me, shocked.

  “It’s not Salo’s fault. We didn’t tell him about the surgery. Between the drugs still in his system from his earlier surgery and the instinct to protect, he could hardly have done otherwise.” I gave them a tired smile. “You can see Darea in a few hours, once we’re sure she’s going to remain stable. In the meantime, why don’t we go tell Fasala the good news?”

  Once Sberea and I returned to recovery and finished the post-op examination, we roused Darea from her drugged sleep. She automatically tried to put her hand up to her head. I caught her fingers and gently placed them at her side.

  “No touching, pulling, or poking,” I said. The sleepy white eyes tried to focus on my face. “Darea, the procedure went beautifully. I removed the blood clot and repaired the vessel damage.” I deliberately left out the details of Salo’s attack. “The rest is up to you.”

  She nodded. “Thank... you...”

  When Sberea and I came out of recovery, we found a recovered Salo hovering just outside.

  “How fares my mate? Is she well? Does she feel pain?”