On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted

by Helena Puumala

  “Some people find that sort of thing fun,” muttered The Monk beside her. He seemed embarrassed, and Kati realized that he had spent a lifetime or a few in the heads of such individuals.

  It was a lot harder for Kati to follow what Vorlund was doing in this part of the healing. She sensed that he was making a similar transformation in the boy’s mind as he had in his body, but the images associated with the boy’s pain distracted her too much for a detailed study. She concentrated on the energy transfer, aware, however, that the Granda was following the Master Healer’s progress. It was easier for The Monk, he had become inured to negative emotions over his reprobate lifetimes. Whatever knowledge he was gaining, would, of course, be available to Kati in the future.

  Eventually, Kerris’ mind was at peace. Kati sensed the slowing of the energy transfer, and then, at last, gently, lovingly, the Master Healer separated himself from the child, reassuring him even as he withdrew.

  “The boy will sleep now,” he told Kati and the Granda, “and wake up refreshed. We can return to the physical world. You will not feel tired but refreshed, Kati of Terra, although you will find yourself hungry after all that effort.”

  *****

  Kati opened her eyes, which she could not remember closing. She was sitting in the same comfortable chair which she had pulled beside Kerris’ bed when she had come into the room. The boy was asleep under the sheet, looking healthy and peaceful, very different from what he had been—how long ago? He was still way too thin, but a few good meals would fix that. Master Healer Vorlund sat on the other side of the bed, a satisfied smile on his face. Arlys was nowhere in sight, but that did not surprise Kati; her vigil must have grown tedious during the time that Vorlund spent putting the patient’s psyche to rights. Now he smiled at Kati, and stretched his body to loosen its musculature.

  “That was a good evening’s work,” he said. “We got it done much faster than I could have, alone. Thank you for helping, Kati of Terra, and the brown-robe within your mind.”

  Kati grinned.

  “You’re very welcome, Master Healer Vorlund. I think my inner companion picked up some useful knowledge during this exercise. But me, I’m starving! Is it late or what?”

  “It’s midnight,” subvocalized the Granda before the Master Healer could answer her.

  “Midnight!” Kati repeated out loud. “How long would you have had to work on Kerris if we hadn’t been able to help?”

  She stared at Vorlund.

  “Someone that badly damaged can be a twelve-hour task for a lone healer,” Vorlund replied, standing up. “I trust that Arlys r’pa Cortes, or whoever has replaced her for the shift, is willing to keep an eye on the boy, while you and I go get something to eat. I am not all that familiar with this part of the city but surely there are restaurants around that stay open late.”

  “We’ll ask whoever is in the office,” Kati suggested, rising from her chair and stretching her body. She gave Kerris’ forehead a quick caress and then followed the Master Healer out the door.

  There was a crowd in the Healing Centre reception room.

  Arlys was there, and another blue-uniformed Lamanian, clearly her shift replacement; a young man, who headed for Kerris’ room immediately.

  “He is asleep,” Vorlund said to him, “and will likely sleep until morning. When he wakes, feed him; he will be hungry and you will not have to worry about his stomach. His digestion should be as good as new.”

  The young man smiled a grateful smile, nodded, and hurried off to check on the patient.

  Marga was there, with another Lamanian woman, somewhat older than her, and in a green uniform of the Federation Peace Officer Corps. Rakil and Lank were present, too, looking awkward among the delicate Lamanians. And Joaley and Ramha r’ma Matteo were there, too, standing on the sides of the door leading out of the Healing Centre.

  “Ah, so he’s all better now,” Arlys said to Vorlund. “I stayed in the room for the healing of the body, but left soon after that. Emotional wounds are more in Marga’s expertise than mine.”

  She gestured toward the Counsellor, who was smiling at the Shelonian Healer with real pleasure.

  “Indeed,” she commented. “Whereas Master Healer Vorlund can treat wounds of any kind. I am very glad that we had the good fortune of catching you in town, Master Healer. That child deserves better treatment than what he got from those Vultairians.”

  “He is basically a gentle soul, and I am very hopeful that with the help of Kati of Terra, here, and her rather, shall we say, unusual node, I was able to unravel the knots that abuse can create in the human psyche, and Kerris will once again be the lovely person that he was meant to be.”

  Vorlund turned to look at the woman in the green uniform.

  “Shall I assume that your being here, tonight, Maryse r’ma Darien, means that you are salivating to unravel the knot that the boy’s presence, in the condition in which he was found, presents to the Federation?”

  His eyes were dancing as he spoke.

  The woman thus addressed laughed; it was a surprisingly warm, throaty sound.

  “Ah, you know me too well, Master Healer Vorlund. But then, can anyone keep secrets from a Shelonian Master Healer? Yes, not only am I anxious to find out exactly what is going on with the Vultairians, but I am, even as we speak, trying to work out a plan to do so. I very much doubt that the rot you people have witnessed—” she gestured around the room, “—is limited to the Exalted Citizens Morhinghy. They were just the ones stupid, and unlucky enough, to get caught in the act.”

  She turned her eyes to Kati who was standing beside Vorlund, her stomach growling with hunger.

  “Well, Kati here will not be helping you make any plans until she has eaten,” the Master Healer said, “and I am feeling mighty peckish myself. Is there a restaurant around here that serves good, hearty fare at this time of the night?”

  “Gallyher’s in the next building over serves really good, stick-to-your ribs kind of fare,” Lank said. “Right Rakil? We were just there the other day, Rakil and I.”

  “Yeah; their food will fill an empty stomach nicely,” Rakil agreed. “Either Lank or I, or both of us, can show you.”

  “I was just going to suggest Gallyher’s, myself,” Arlys said with a laugh. “And actually, I can use a bit of nourishment myself. Who’s coming?”

  Apparently everyone was, even Joaley and Ramha.

  “I hope we’re not leaving Kerris in any danger,” Kati thought to say, realizing that there was only the one healer on duty at the Healing Centre.

  “Not a chance,” Maryse answered. “I’ve got our people on the alert, as well as the City Peace Officers. Not the greatest thing for Healer Yorm r’pa Madden’s privacy, but he does understand that we can’t take the risk that the Vultairians might try to pull off something. Being accused of keeping slaves is a pretty serious charge for Federation Citizens.”

  “Does anybody know what is happening on Vultaire?” Master Healer Vorlund asked Maryse. “I have heard rumours of all kinds about how governance has rotted there, and the living conditions for all but the Four Hundred Families have become almost intolerable, but I have not gotten any solid information to any questions that I have asked. Someone must know, one would think.”

  “You’d think, but you’d be wrong,” Maryse replied with a shake of her head. “The Four Hundred govern, and they keep outsiders at bay. Unfortunately the Federation has, in the past, been saddled with a succession of Presidents who have shown about as much backbone as earthworms. Several months ago I was up on the Space Station, pleading—pleading!—with President Stolts to let me send an investigative Team to Vultaire because we have reason to believe that they are diverting at least some of their node quota into criminal hands! But no; according to the now ex-President, Vultaire is an old and trusted member of the Federation, and their government is perfectly capable of looking into irregularities on their world themselves. Seemed the notion that the Four Hundred might be waist deep in those irregulariti
es had never crossed his mind.”

  “Well, Maryse, I have to admit that I do understand where he’s coming from,” protested Marga. “It’s hard to believe, without good evidence, that one of the established Federation planets might have gone rogue. I admit that I was ready to dismiss Kati’s concerns about the Exalted Citizens Morhinghy until I saw their performance in the Transient Quarters.”

  “Ah, Marga, you’re a trusting person,” Maryse said. “Which is a good quality in a Counsellor, but does not become a politician. However, we now have a new President, one of your people, Master Healer, so I finally have some hope.”

  “I know President Vascorn, and he may be a cautious man, but not unreasonably so, and his heart is in the right place,” said Vorlund. “If you need nodal records of the healing process on the boy, Kerris, to make your case to the Federation, I will gladly oblige. The fewer such cases that I have to handle, the happier I will be.”

  “Thank you, Master Healer Vorlund,” Maryse replied. “It may come to that, but I hope not. I do understand that you Shelonian Healers prefer to not air your techniques to all and sundry. The node records that the City Peace Officers collected at the Transient Housing Unit may be enough to get even reluctant Federation officials to act. And I do have friends in the Senate, which helps. But if I must ask you for your co-operation, Master Healer, I certainly will.”

  “The reason why we do not like to, as Maryse said, ‘to air our techniques to all and sundry’,” Vorlund said to Kati in an aside, “is that we do not want persons with no talent but plenty of gall, to try to imitate what we do. At best, that sort of meddling produces nothing, and at worst, it can make an already ill patient a lot sicker.”

  “Ah,” said Kati, “does that mean that I should not attempt any healings using your techniques if I should come across a situation in which I thought such an attempt might be appropriate?”

  “No, my dear young woman.” Vorlund beamed at her. “You are quite talented, even though it is clear that your talent has never been honed. And with you keeping its antisocial tendencies on a leash, that Granda node’s knowledge and dexterity can complement your talent quite admirably. And it is good for it to have positive outlets for its energies; you may succeed in rehabilitating the old rogue yet. So if the need arises, you have my blessings on any healing efforts that you and your monk may undertake.”

  “Her monk” snarled at this but Kati ignored the outburst. She was getting rather good at that. And the Granda, being in this existence, a portion of her nervous system, had to accept it.

  The group had reached Gallyher’s Restaurant. It was an unassuming place from the outside, so much so that Kati realized, when Arlys stopped, that she had walked past it a number of times without knowing that she was passing a dining establishment. There were no sidewalk tables, which were the way many Second City eateries advertised themselves; there was only the name, Gallyher’s, in bold Lamanian script, above the broad doors.

  “They have a terrace in the back,” Lank said, to explain the lack of sidewalk tables.

  “And that is where we’ll ask to be seated,” added Arlys. “I love their terrace on a warm night like this. It’s good for the appetite.”

  “What I plan to do,” said Maryse, after Kati and Vorlund had slaked the worst of their hunger and the rest of the group, too, were munching comfortably, “is to get another Investigative Team to Vultaire to look into possible infractions of Federation law.”

  Vorlund leaned back in his chair, a meat roll in one hand, and stared at her.

  “And are you expecting results from such an enterprise?” he asked. “You do not think that, like always, the Investigators will be driven down one blind alley after another, prevented from seeing what the Four Hundred want to keep hidden?”

  “Oh, I’m expecting all kinds of roadblocks.” Maryse was smiling. “To begin with, I’m expecting it to take, oh, five or six months for the Team to even get there. There is going to be a lot of foot-dragging on the Federation Space Station. I’ll be thwarted at every step of the way. The Vultairian politicians in the Federation government are masters at keeping critical eyes away from their home world; they have had a lot of practice. But I and my Team will persist, and eventually, they’ll have to bow to Federation Law and allow my Team to go in.”

  “And then this Team will be faced with the resistance of the Oligarchy on their home territory,” said the Master Healer, and bit into the roll.

  “My team will be led by Mikal r’ma Trodden, presently my best operative.”

  Kati noted that Maryse’s eyes had shifted to look at her as she spoke Mikal’s name. She carefully spread the piece of bread in her fingers with the pate that served as butter on the tables of Lamania. However, Maryse had her attention.

  “But the Vultairians know who he is and what he does. And since his arrival on Vultaire will be well announced, with, as you pointed out, five or six months in which the oligarchy can get their facades up, how much will he actually be able to achieve?” Vorlund sounded curious more than anything.

  Listening to the two, Kati decided that Vorlund knew that Maryse was holding a card or two up her sleeve.

  “Oh, Mikal will ferret out information, never fear. He’s good at using his opponents’ weaknesses against them, and the Vultairian Oligarchs have plenty of those.” Maryse sounded almost smug.

  Kati recalled what Mikal had once told her about using the arrogance of their gun-toting would-be assassins as a weapon to foil their plans. That had been on the Drowned Planet and the slavers who were chasing her and Mikal had been contemptuous of the local population which had no space age technology. But those locals had been very helpful and efficient when it came to squelching the well-armed opposition.

  “And you are talking about this here and now to us—why?” asked Vorlund.

  Maryse grinned.

  “Because I am going to send an Unofficial Team to Vultaire as well, and I want Kati of Terra to lead that team.” She sounded triumphant.

  “Hah,” laughed Vorlund. “I knew you were up to something, Maryse r’ma Darien. You want to take my brand new apprentice, and send her to do your work!”

  “I suspect that the work I can offer will come closer to allowing her to fulfill the promises she made to a group of children on a slave ship, Master Healer Vorlund, than healing the maimed here on Lamania can,” Maryse replied, and now she did sound smug.

  “Does that mean that you think that some of those children ended up on Vultaire?” Kati asked, making eye-contact with Maryse.

  “After viewing the essentials of the node records that Joaley and Ramha made about the incident with Kerris, and combining that information with what was on the record that you made on your arrival here, I would be very surprised if that was not so,” Maryse answered. “And, of course, Gorsh has been known to boast that the slaves that he sells cannot be traced to homes and families. An excellent selling point when a Federation world has gone rogue enough to keep slaves but, nevertheless, wants to hang onto its status as one of the primary members of the Federation. That’s one of the reasons why I want you on this job. Those children will recognize you and trust you. If you play this game right, you can do a tremendous amount of good.”

  Kati nodded, and realized that her heart was pounding in her chest. Maryse was right!

  She turned to look at Master Healer Vorlund.

  “I’m sorry if I’m going to doom your hopes for another promising student,” she said, “but I did tell those children that I would get them out of slavery, once I reached civilization. And this seems to offer an opportunity to start doing just that—and stop cooling my heels here in The Second City.”

  “And,” added the Master Healer quietly, “if you can keep just one child from going through what that boy we healed went through, no healer in his right mind could object to your choice.”

  “There is actually more to my desire to get an Unofficial Team of Investigators to Vultaire than Gorsh and his business, although, Heaven kno
ws, that would be plenty enough.” Maryse looked directly at Kati. “Do you know anything about the Klensers?” she queried.

  Kati consulted the Granda for a quick moment.

  “My node tells me that they’re Vultairians who, because of a genetic anomaly, are able to use their bodies to clean up pollution,” she replied, a touch of wonder in her voice. “They can breathe in dirty air and remove the pollutants in it as it passes through their bodies. And they can swim through polluted water, absorb the impurities into their bodies, and then destroy them.”

  Maryse nodded.

  “That’s the gist of it. The Vultairians originally based their Space Lanes economy on selling the services of the Klensers. Fortunately for the Federation, they were greedy, and kept the prices high, while making sure that the genetic anomaly was not exported elsewhere; otherwise the rest of us might never have bothered to develop clean technologies. These days Lamanians, Shelonians and other established Federation worlds need the services of the Klensers only occasionally. Most of the business, now comes to Vultaire from the Fringe Worlds, planets which are still struggling. Nevertheless, the Klensers do provide an important service, and the Federation has ignored complaints concerning the Oligarchy’s treatment of the Klensers. However, it does seem to me that if the Four Hundred Families are accustomed to treating the Klensers as creatures to be used, accepting slavery is that much easier for them.

  “Therefore, I would like my Unofficial Team to report on the treatment of the Klensers as well. I want to know whether or not the Klensers of Vultaire are handled as property by the Four Hundred Families, and if that is so, I want nodal records of it.”

  “So we’re talking a two-pronged mission,” Kati said. “One, the Team would look into the living situation of these Klensers, determining what their status is, making careful nodal records of their findings. Two, they will locate the slaves brought to Vultaire from off-world, slaves most likely bought from the Slaver Gorsh or his minions, and get nodal records of their existence. Then, when the Official Investigative Team arrives on Vultaire, the Unofficial Team reports to it, making it impossible for the Vultairian Oligarchs to hide their secrets.”