Beyond Varallan

by S. L. Viehl

  “Wait.” Reever bent over me. His lips felt cold against my ear. “Come back to me, Cherijo.”

  Ironically, Xonea had said the same thing the last time I risked life and limb. “I will.”

  I stared at the deck above me when Squilyp charged the stimulator. I was doing the right thing. Heard the hum of the electric as the terminals descended. This wouldn’t kill me. At least, not permanently. Convulsed as the power slammed into my chest. On second thought . . .

  My heart stopped.

  At the very last moment, I felt the cold presence infiltrating my mind. I couldn’t fight. Couldn’t move.

  “Now you will die, little one.”

  Everything around me grew very small and insignificant. Just on the edge of my field of vision, a woman appeared. I tried to move my head to see her clearly. She was smiling, and held out her arms.

  “Joey. Come to me, baby.”

  “Maggie.” Had I really told Squilyp to stop my heart? “Maggie, am I dead?”

  “Shhhh, no, baby.”

  The berth, Medical Bay, and everything I knew was gone in a moment. I went deep within myself, to a place no one could ever touch. Not even the killer. How I knew that was a mystery. But Maggie was there.

  There was no color or shape to the well of darkness I had fallen into. Only a warm security that I wrapped around me like an affectionate embrace. And Maggie’s voice, soothing as she eased away the pain.

  “It’s okay. I won’t let you fall, kiddo. It’s okay.”

  When I was an infant, she had done the same. I knew this place. What I didn’t know was how it was possible that I shared it with a dead woman.

  The subliminal implants—had she put more in my mind? What were they for? What reason would she have had to do this to me?

  “Always with the questions!” Maggie’s rich contralto spilled over with laughter. “I think a damn drone makes less enquiries!”

  “Maggie. What’s happened to me? Why am I here?”

  “That mop-faced pink guy was able to start your heart again. Problem is, someone interfered, messed with your brain waves, and you never regained consciousness. In reality, you’re in a deep coma.”

  “That stinks.”

  “Yeah, it does.” I could hear her blowing out smoke from one of the illegal cigarettes she thought I never knew about. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Can’t we talk somewhere else?” I shuddered. “This place is giving me the creeps.”

  “Voilá,” Maggie said.

  I was back on Terra. In the house of Joseph Grey Veil. In my old room.

  Maggie stood there, as if still alive. She dusted off the mantel and scowled at a regal photoscan of my creator. Same old Maggie. She wore a gaudy tunic that was a little too tight. Lots of accessories. Her silver-streaked red hair glowed like a traffic drone signal.

  I sat on the edge of my sleeping platform. A glance down found a childish body dressed in pajamas. My hair hung down my flat chest in two long braids. Bemused, I held up one chunky dark cable.

  “Trying to turn me back into a kid, Maggie?”

  “I liked you when you were ten. You weren’t trying to be your father back in those days.” She reached over, picked up a doll, and tossed it across the room at me. I managed to catch it. “Remember Crissy Credits?”

  I examined the toy. “Yeah, I do. She came with her own credit chip and miniature shopping center.” I fingered the doll’s bright blond curls. “You bought this for me.”

  “Do you remember what Joseph gave you for your tenth birthday?”

  I snorted and put the doll aside. “My first scanner. He made me practice using it on you. I identified that ingrown toenail with it.” I smiled, then winced at the flare of pain that produced. “You were my first surgical patient.”

  “Goddamn it.” She planted her hands on her hips. “What did that oversized blueberry ape do to your face?”

  My fingers touched my cheek. “Long story. Why don’t you tell me why you brought me here?”

  “You brought you here. Once your heart stopped, the subliminal memories I implanted began to surface. It’s important, Joey. Stop looking at me like that.”

  “I can’t believe you stuck all this junk in my mind.” I sighed. “So what gem of wisdom are you going to hand me this time?”

  “Wisdom?” Maggie chuckled. “Is that what you think this is? Oh, no, honey. I’m no teacher.”

  “You were a great mom.”

  Her smile trembled a little. “Yeah, well, I tried. It wasn’t hard; you were a sweet kid. Now, listen to me carefully. A lot of those blueberry people are depending on you. You’ve got to stop this nutso who’s killing them.”

  “How?”

  “Use your head, not your heart. It’s like a dimensional puzzle game. You have the pieces. Put them together.”

  It seemed like we had only been speaking for moments. but suddenly I became aware of the passage of time.

  “I’ve got to go back, now.” Another sensation penetrated, a mind battering against the walls of the darkness. “Duncan.”

  “Now, him I like,” Maggie said. “He has great eyes. How does he do that color-changing thing with them?”

  “Maggie. Please.” I stopped and concentrated for a moment. “How could you like his eye color? You died before I ever met Reever.”

  “You always think in such categorical patterns, Joey. When you get on this side of creation, you can lecture me all you want about existential paradoxes. Now go back. They think you’re dying.”

  “Am I?”

  “No, baby. You won’t die.”

  I opened my eyes. “Ma . . . geee . . .” I croaked.

  Adaola shrieked and dropped a chart down on the bed beside me. A moment later, Squilyp appeared. His gildrells stiffened like a bunch of exclamation marks.

  “If you ever try that again, Healer, I will stop your heart for good!”

  “ ’Sokay . . . Squid . . . Lips . . .” My voice slurred, as though my speech center had been damaged. “Ho . . . long?”

  “Thirty-seven hours since you entered deep coma.”

  “N-not . . . c-coma . . .”

  I slid into the shallow darkness of natural sleep, and I spent a long interval there before I sensed another voice calling to me.

  Cherijo. Cherijo.

  Duncan.

  I felt disoriented. Disconnected from my body. Barely able to contain the frantic thoughts pouring into my mind.

  Out of my . . . Are you in pain . . . ? What went wrong?

  Maggie. I managed a ghost of a chuckle. Subliminal . . . implants . . . long story. I smelled something warm and male close to my face. Heard the steady rhythm of a human heart. Felt the stroke of a gentle hand on my hair. So tired.

  Then sleep, Cherijo. You are safe. I will stay here with you until you wake up.

  I slept with my cheek against his chest, cradled in arms that kept me safe.

  Two days later, Reever accompanied me to the Captain’s office, along with Adaola. I carried the discs with the signals Salo had received, statements from Squilyp and the other Jorenian nurse, along with a copy of my chart.

  Xonea got to his feet when we entered, every inch the polished, professional Jorenian ship commander as he made a formal gesture of greeting.

  “Senior Healer. Are you recovered?”

  We were going to be polite, were we? “My nose wasn’t broken, and my face won’t be scarred,” I said. “My ribs, however, still twinge now and then.”

  That put a dent in his composure. “I regret what occurred in the detainment cell.”

  I didn’t blink an eyelash. “I’ll bet you do.”

  “I attempted to see you several times,” he said. The slight change of tone revealed a flicker of anger. “I was not allowed to approach your berth in Medical.”

  Just as I’d ordered. “Then you met my personal guards. Nice guys, don’t you think?”

  He didn’t appreciate my humor. “It was unnecessary to post guards, Cherijo. I wil
l not touch you in anger again.”

  “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Captain.” I placed the discs on his desk and activated a recording drone. “I am Senior Healer Cherijo Torin, presently meeting with Captain Xonea Torin, on board the Jorenian survey vessel Sunlace. Witnesses to this meeting are ship’s Linguist Duncan Reever, and Senior Nurse Adaola Torin.”

  “You seek some sort of litigation against me?” Xonea sat back down.

  “Captain, this”—I leaned over and nudged one disc toward Xonea—“is the audio/vid record of my death. I present this data as proof conclusive that at the time and date specified, my heart stopped functioning and I was declared dead.”

  “Declared dead?” Xonea asked.

  Adaola stepped forward. “Senior Healer Cherijo chose her right to embrace the stars. Her path was diverted as a result of cardiac failure induced by electristim.”

  “Indeed?” Xonea made a show of looking me over. “For one who has embraced the stars, you appear very animated, my Chosen.”

  “Correction.” I nudged another disc toward him. “I died, and according to Jorenian law twelve, applications thirty-three through forty-seven, remained dead long enough to meet the criteria to break Choice. I am no longer your Chosen.”

  Xonea’s breath hissed out. “No.”

  “Let me quote: ‘Only the death of either Chosen can break the bond.’ I died. The bond’s broken, pal.”

  “You are still alive!”

  “There is a historical precedent,” Reever said. “A Jorenian female of HouseClan Vaseran Chose a male shortly before he became grievously ill. At one point, his heart arrested. Although he survived, the resulting damage was considerable. His Chosen was permitted to Choose another, based on the fact that her bondmate’s path had been diverted, and she could not accompany him.”

  “I know that case!” Xonea swept the discs from his desk with one flick of his hand. “The Vaseran male was paralyzed and catatonic. It was a merciful ruling so the female could have children and a normal life.” His hair shimmered as he swung toward me. “You are not crippled, my Chosen.”

  “No, I’m not. Which is why Salo sent a transdimensional signal to Joren three days ago.” I stooped and picked up one of the discs he had shoved off the desk. “The case was brought before the Ruling Council. Here’s their judgment. Want to guess what they said?”

  “No.” He sat down, his eyes wide as he stared at the disc. “It cannot be possible. I Chose you. You are mine.”

  I put my hands on his desk and ducked until I was in his line of sight. “Not—any—more.”

  Xonea stared at me. “I will simply Choose you again. What say you now, Senior Healer?”

  “You can’t,” I replied. “I’ve already been Chosen by someone else.”

  At his cue, Reever moved to my side and took one of my hands. “Cherijo and I have discussed plans to be married. In Terran tradition, that is equal to Choosing.”

  “It cannot be thus!” Xonea bellowed.

  I pointed to the data from Joren. “We asked the council for their opinion on that subject, too. They agreed. You can’t Choose me again, Xonea. Reever got me first.”

  Adaola watched as her ClanBrother covered his face with his hands. Her reserve broke at last and she went around the desk to put her arms around him.

  “Leave us, if you would,” she said, her dark head close to Xonea’s. “I will talk with him now.”

  Reever and I marched out. Only when the door panel closed did I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Do you think he believed that last part?”

  Reever waited until we walked past a couple of crew members before he answered. “I dislike lying to the Captain.”

  “You didn’t lie. You said we discussed getting married. You just didn’t tell him I turned you down.”

  “Such an omission is still wrong, Cherijo.”

  We could debate this all day, but I had work to do. “I have to get back to Medical. Rogan is probably trying to kill off half the patients,” I said. “Do me a favor. Don’t go to Xonea and start confessing, okay? I’d hate to think I went through all that for nothing. And one more thing.”

  “What is it?”

  I reached up and touched his cheek. “Thanks, Duncan. You’re a true friend.” I hurried off.

  Medical was in smooth operation by the time I reported for my shift. Squilyp had managed to supervise Rogan and keep him busy while at the same time ensuring none of our patients suffered. He also arranged the schedule so that

  I rarely if ever worked the same shift with Rogan.

  The Omorr had been apprised of our plans and was waiting anxiously to hear the result of my meeting with Xonea.

  “It worked. It’s over,” I said. “Adaola is up there consoling him now.”

  “He must be devastated,” Squilyp said.

  “He’ll live.” I picked up the chart of our burn patient. “Well, someone looks ready to get out of here today.”

  The programmer, whose name was Lalona, slipped to her feet and stretched. It was wonderful to see her face and derma restored to their former flawless condition. “I am more than ready, Senior Healer. Give me leave, and I will vacate this berth before you can blink!”

  “Seems no one appreciates the luxury of being cared for by the finest trained professionals in the universe,” I said in disgust. “All right, Lalona, get out of my Medical Bay.”

  She thanked us both before she left. Squilyp, I saw, watched her go, and didn’t hear a word I said until I nudged him with my elbow.

  “What?” The Omorr’s pink skin flushed puce around the gildrells. “I beg your pardon, Senior Healer. What did you say?”

  “I said she’s a very pretty woman.” I studied the way his membranes contracted nervously. “You like her, don’t you?”

  “I have come to care very much for her.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” I grinned and waved a hand toward the door. “Go get her and ask her to share a meal with you.”

  “I would.” He puffed out some air through his gildrells. “Unfortunately, Omorr and Jorenians are not compatible species.”

  “What a shame.” It really was. “There’s no way you and Lalona could . . . ?” I trailed off delicately.

  “No. Even if I could Bond with a Jorenian, I could not . . .” He averted his eyes. “I must consider an Omorr female for purposes of intimacy. Perhaps someday, when my work does not require so much of my time.”

  “You can still be friends with her, right?”

  He shook his head. “It is better that I maintain some distance from her; my attachment will fade.”

  “I’m sorry, Squilyp,” I said. And I was.

  We reviewed the day’s schedule and caseload. Most of the patients were reporting for routine treatments, now that the injured cases had been cleared and discharged. Lalona had been the last of those recovering from the mercenary attack.

  “Where’s Rogan?” I asked just before the Omorr went off shift.

  “Didn’t you know? We’ll be transitioning in a few hours, when we reach his homeworld system. He’s getting ready to leave the ship.”

  “Oh. Right.” I really needed to start accessing my relays more often. “What’s it called?”

  “Ichthora.”

  “Sounds like the right name. What are the natives called? The Ickies?”

  “Ichthori.”

  “Hmmmm.” I flipped a chart to display when it occurred to me there was more involved with dropping Rogan off on his homeworld than merely assuming an orbit. My head snapped up. “Why the hell are we sending a team down with him?”

  “Captain’s orders.”

  We’d just see about that. “Tell me you’re on the sojourn roster.”

  Squilyp shook his head.

  “Wonderful.” I tossed the chart aside and went to stare through the ward viewer. “With my luck, the entire planet will be populated by Rogans. The Captain has a real sense of humor.” I swung around. “Well, there’s no way I—Squi
lyp? Squilyp!”

  He had hopped out so quietly that I hadn’t heard him, and made a clean getaway.

  PART FOUR:

  Betrayer

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rogan’s Move

  Xonea ignored the ten signals I sent to him about the sojourn. Guess he was still mad at me for dumping him. Salo and Reever were on the team, along with Dhreen and a couple of anthropologists. I agreed to go only if I could take one of my personal guards with me.

  “There is no need for additional security,” Salo said, trying to reassure me. “The Ichthori are a peaceful people. We will meet them, perhaps share a meal, and learn more of their culture.”

  “Yeah, well, if Rogan turns out to be the Crown Prince of the Icky People, I want someone with weapons at my back. Just to be on the safe side.”

  Ichthora, according to the database, listed tech trade as their main source of income. Salo had orders to keep bartering to a minimum, as the Sunlace had an overabundance of technology. From the way Rogan talked about the place, I expected some superbly modern, highly developed world populated by geniuses and paved with soaring alloy edifices.

  We landed in a swamp.

  I looked out of the viewport as the team prepared to disembark. “There are pools of water out there on the Transport docking pad,” I said. “We’re sitting in one of them.”

  “Biodecon results are negative,” Dhreen called. “I’m opening the hull doors.”

  “Close them,” I said a moment later, covering my nose and mouth with my hand. Ichthora was a world of rotten vegetation, estuaries of yellow, muddied water, and dense islands of stunted trees. It also smelled like it. “Please.”

  Thick, steamy heat accompanied the stench, while insects began buzzing in through the open doors. I couldn’t resist the urge to swat at them. Rogan shouldered his one case and gestured toward the docking ramp.

  “After you, Dr. Torin.”

  “I’ll stay in the launch, thanks.” I had no desire to go wading through the muck out there. I waved my hand at the swarm of tiny insects circling around my head. “Where are the envirosuits?”