Beyond Varallan

by S. L. Viehl

  A voice came over the display again. It sounded pained. “Healer?”

  “I’m busy,” I yelled. I began dismantling the cleanser. I wondered how much I’d get to destroy before they got exasperated and came for me. Wanton destruction was kind of fun.

  “You will not be reassigned new quarters,” the voice said.

  “Good. Save me the trouble of having to do this all over again.” I wrenched the cleanser port from the wall and sure enough, found a third drone busily monitoring. “Well, well.”

  “Healer, please cease this activity at once.”

  “No. Why put one in here? I’m not much to look at.” I wrenched the drone out of the recess. “Naked, I mean.”

  I took this one to the overworked disposal unit. It sputtered and made some ominous grumbling noises, but eventually reduced the drone to small bits of metal and wiring.

  “Vandalism is punishable under League statutes.”

  “I’m so scared. See, I’m shaking,” I said, holding up my steady hands. “Or can’t you see anymore?”

  “Are you hungry, Healer?”

  I sat down on some mounds of cushioning I had ripped from the furnishings, curled over, and closed my eyes.

  “Are you hungry?” the voice repeated.

  “There’s no more food in here.”

  “We can bring you more supplies.”

  “No. Thanks.”

  Shropana’s voice took over again. “Dr. Grey Veil wishes an interview with you.”

  “If Dr. Grey Veil so much as comes within spitting distance of me, I’ll make what I did on the launch bay look like a love-tap.”

  “That would not be wise.”

  “Maybe I’m not as smart as he tells you I am.”

  “Your hostility will not make your stay with us a pleasant one, Cherijo.”

  I loved the way he said that. Like this was some kind of resort and I was on vacation. “If I wanted pleasant, I would have stayed on Terra.”

  He produced a frustrated growl. “You are your father’s daughter. Of that I am convinced.”

  “Thanks. I know Xonal would appreciate you saying that.”

  I slept. How long, I had no idea. Sleeping and destroying things composed the majority of my immediate plans. That was how I spent the first three days of my captivity, until I became so dehydrated I couldn’t do much more than sleep fitfully or toss bits of shredded fabric around while I was awake.

  They came for me, of course. Weak as I was, they still drugged me with a mild tranquilizer. When I woke up, I was in a medical berth, my limbs pinned down by tight restraints. Intravenous tubes were pumping colorless liquid into my arms.

  Mistake number three. Now I was really getting mad.

  Colonel Shropana appeared as soon as I opened my eyes. So did a humanoid nurse, who began wordlessly spooning glucose into my mouth.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  I spat the glucose in his face. “Yeah. I am.”

  Strong, claw-tipped fingers encircled my throat. “I’ve killed men for less,” he told me.

  It was good to see the League’s Chief Jerk lose control. I grinned as his grip tightened. “By all means.” My laughter croaked. “Do me a favor.”

  The claws eased from my neck as he released me. “I see.” He grew quiet as he wiped the glucose from his face with a cloth the appalled nurse handed him. “You’re intent on suicide.”

  “If that’s what you want to believe, sure.”

  “Will you talk to me, Cherijo?” He tried to appear earnest and caring. It might have worked if he’d had some prior experience, I thought. Or a lot more practice in front of a mirror. “How can I help you adjust to this change in your life?”

  “Gee, I don’t know.” I pretended to think it over. “Put me off on the first non-League world the ship passes?”

  “You know I can’t release you.” The old eyes glittered in contrast to the entreating words. “I am quite serious. Let me help you.”

  He needed my cooperation and would now do a lot to get it. Which is exactly where I wanted him. “Here’s a helpful hint, Colonel. If you don’t want someone to act like a hostile prisoner”—I lowered my voice so he bent close to catch my words—“you stop treating them like one.”

  “You feel you have been mistreated?”

  I made my eyes wide. “Wouldn’t you? Locked up in a cage with drone monitors all over the place? Never being consulted as to what you want to eat, drink, or listen to? No freedom offered whatsoever? Can you blame me for being angry?” I even managed to work a pathetic little throb in my voice. “How could you do that to me?”

  Shrewd, experienced Colonel Shropana fell for it. “I had no idea you felt like this.”

  “Try detainment sometime. Come back and tell me how you like it.” I heaved out a sad sound. “You know, you people have spent an enormous amount of credits tracking me down and getting me to surrender. What do you do the minute you have me in custody? You treat me like a large, dumb, lab specimen. The League doesn’t send sixty ships out after just anybody, do they?”

  “No.” Now he showed some of his inner perplexity. “To my knowledge, no mission short of full-fledged war has required so many resources.”

  “There you go. They think I’m important. So what will you do for me, Colonel? What do you have to offer to entice me to even think about cooperating?”

  Talk was easy for him. Concessions weren’t. “I can allow you to have access to most areas of the ship,” he said, without much enthusiasm.

  “Good start.”

  “You may select your quarters, furnish them as you like from ship’s stores.”

  “Even better.”

  “We will endeavor to give you a measure of privacy.”

  He was lying, but I nodded. Two out of three wasn’t bad. “That’s more like it.”

  “If I do this, what will I get in return, Cherijo?”

  He might be fooled, but he wasn’t stupid. I mimed his thoughtful expression. “In return, I’ll eat and drink.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s better than keeping me restrained, on tubes, and getting glucose spit in your face.”

  The fleshy lips parted in a canine grimace. “You are a very shrewd young woman. Very well. I will put these new measures into effect immediately.”

  “Fine. When I see that you’ve done it, I’ll have lunch with you.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He’s back on Joren.”

  He corrected himself quickly. “What about Dr. Joseph Grey Veil?”

  “If you want him to make it to the end of this jaunt in one piece, keep him away from me.”

  “He wishes to conduct tests on you.”

  “Tell him his tests should be used as an enema.”

  “He will not accept that.”

  “Big deal. Why are you all so terrified of him? He screwed up nine times before he got his little experiment right.”

  “He has all the experimental data.”

  I smiled. “I am the experiment.”

  Whatever they pumped into my veins worked. The effects of three days without food or water soon disappeared. The cranky nurse refused to give me my chart, so I had to guess it was the standard saline/glucose shock cocktail. Within hours I regained enough strength to walk out of Medical to join Colonel Shropana for lunch. I snagged my chart from the nurse without asking and tucked it under my arm on the way out.

  “Hey, Colonel.”

  Shropana waited in the outer corridor for me, and glanced at the chart I carried. “Is there a problem with your treatment?”

  “I’ll make a list after I read the physician’s notes.”

  The galley was regulation freighter design, which meant it was a big open room with a bunch of tables and benches. Everything was in stanissue League colors (unpainted grey alloys), and even more depressing than the stark confines of their Medical section. I could smell the mingled odors of a hundred meals, none of which appealed to me.

 
“Ever think of hanging a few botanicals around here?” I asked the Colonel. “Maybe a picture or two?”

  “The League discourages reminding space-bound troops of the pleasures of planetary service,” Shropana replied.

  “Pity. This place is killing what’s left of my appetite.”

  The crew scattered like frightened mice as we approached a smaller series of tables reserved for the officers. One brave soul lingered, evidently meaning to offer his assistance. Shropana’s steady gaze sent him scurrying along after the others.

  “Do they always do that?” I asked.

  The Colonel nodded. “I never have to wait for a table to become available,” he said.

  I made my mouth go round and pressed a hand to my heart. “Why, Colonel. A League Commander who can actually make a decent joke. I’m stunned.”

  “Call me Patril,” he said, at ease with my sarcasm now. “What can I program for your meal?”

  I wouldn’t let him serve me. Being polite was one thing, but the man commanded sixty League cruisers and God knew how many troopers. Him waiting on me was a bit ridiculous. Plus I didn’t want him slipping some unknown substance into my food or drink. To my surprise, the main menu included a complete selection of native Jorenian recipes.

  “You have food stores from Joren?”

  “Synthetics. Even with those, your Senior Healer refused to eat anything that was not prepared in classic Jorenian style.” The Colonel sighed. “It took days to adjust the prep units to that woman’s specifications.”

  “Oh, so that was where you got the recipe programs.” I programmed the d’narral, waited a moment, and removed the result. I tasted it carefully. “Yep. This is Tonetka’s, all right. She never uses enough safira.”

  We returned to the table with our trays and sat down. With my peripheral vision, I saw Joseph Grey Veil approaching us. I casually picked up the fork on my tray (the Colonel wasn’t ready to trust me with knives, I noted) and poked the steaming vegetable mound. Shropana watched my creator approach without a word to me.

  I made a humming sound as I tasted it again. “I think she overcooks it a little, too.”

  “Really?” The Colonel pretended interest.

  “Here, try some.” I offered a forkful to him. He sampled it with a great show of concentration. That’s right, indulge the little lab specimen, I thought. “Too limp, right?”

  “Well, perhaps—”

  “I would speak with you, Cherijo,” Joseph Grey Veil said, all preemptory arrogance. Like he had a right. I saw him place a hand on the table beside my tray. Felt him hanging over me. My, wasn’t he confident?

  Joseph forgot who I’d been living with for the last year.

  I immediately turned the fork and rammed the sharp tines through the back of his hand. I never felt this surge of feral satisfaction before. Maybe there was something to that Jorenian tradition of violent revenge. His scream was a top note of joy to my ears.

  My creator fell back, clutching his wrist, using language I’d never heard issue from his prim lips before. Guess Joseph had picked up a few bad habits, too. Colonel Shropana half rose from his seat, then slowly sat back down. I used my napkin to blot up the small drops of blood from my side of the table.

  “Sorry, Patril,” I said, the epitome of courtesy. “You were saying?”

  Shropana gestured to the two guards that shadowed him everywhere and pointed to the fallen Joseph Grey Veil. They helped the wounded Doctor to his feet and escorted him from the galley. I saw all of this from the corner of my eye, and had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. The Colonel rose and got another fork for me.

  “Healer, I gain respect for you by the day.” He handed me the new utensil. “You make Jorenian warriors seem subdued in comparison.”

  “Not really,” I replied. “The only interest I have in someone’s viscera is repairing damage to it. In Dr. Grey Veil’s case, however”—I let my voice go flat—“I can make an exception.”

  The heavy features darkened. “You are determined to keep him at bay?”

  “Among other things.”

  “I applaud your perseverance, although I can’t condone your methods or intent.” The Colonel sipped some of the noxious-smelling beverage he’d chosen. “I thought the Terran Hippocratic Oath required you not to deliberately inflict harm on other human beings.”

  “I don’t consider that thing I just stuck my fork in to be human,” I said.

  There were no further interruptions. Colonel Shropana ate sparingly. When he thought I wasn’t looking, he gave me odd looks. It didn’t bother me. I happily demolished the d’narral. I liked the way Tonetka programmed it, soggy layers and all.

  We finished our meal, and two crew members rushed in to clean up after us. Being a Commander did have its perks. From the galley, Shropana took me on a tour of the enormous troop freighter. I wasn’t surprised to find out it was nearly ten times the size of the Sunlace.

  “Command levels and engineering sections are off-limits, I’m afraid,” the Colonel said. “I am willing to give you freedom to access the rest of the ship, including our medical facility. Your consultation will be more than welcomed by our staff physician.”

  I suppressed the urge to snort. I’d play consultant. In his dreams. “Where are we headed? Terra?”

  The Colonel was convincingly regretful. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question, although Dr. Grey Veil insists his research can only be carried out on your homeworld.”

  “You’re not giving Dr. Grey Veil what he wants? My, my. He’ll have a terrible tantrum. You may have to put him in sleep suspension to keep him from developing an embolism.”

  Shropana cleared his throat. “We are coordinating our jaunt and will leave orbit tomorrow to return to the Pmoc Quadrant.” We passed a trio of engineers in the corridor. They flattened themselves against the plaspanel walls to get out of the way. “Fendagal XI will be the site of the League Conference in regard to your future.”

  That was news. “The entire League is holding a conference just for me?”

  “You’re the only genetically enhanced Terran in existence.” He gave me a thorough survey. “Your unique DNA makes you of vital importance to every member of the League.”

  “I hope they’ve heard the story about the goose who laid the golden eggs,” I said.

  By that time we had reached level fifteen, where League tech programmers were busy maintaining and monitoring the huge ship’s internal systems.

  Chamber twelve, level sixteen, Tonetka had said. I had to get that far today. I didn’t know if I’d have a fork handy the next time Joseph Grey Veil tried to put his slimy hands on me.

  “What’s on the next level?” I asked. Acting nonchalant was easy. I did it with patients all the time.

  “Communications, resource management, and our gymnasium and recreational imagers.” He counted off each with a claw. “I understand you are an excellent simulation programmer.”

  “I prefer reality these days,” I said. My lips curled. “Still, can’t be too picky, can I?”

  “I’d hardly call you indiscriminate. Come. I’ll show you some of the best the League has to offer its members on extended space jaunts.”

  Level sixteen, like the rest of the ship, was extensive. I counted eleven chamber entrances down the starboard side of the corridor and made note of the twelfth. The gymnasium. Perhaps they had given Tonetka routine access to it? What kind of weapon could she have hidden there? Had to be something small she could conceal on her person. I couldn’t anticipate finding a large calibre displacer rifle. I could always dream, though.

  The Colonel steered me toward the simulator room, which was equipped with a sophisticated array of dimensional imagers.

  “Show me something you’ve enjoyed in the past,” he said.

  Probably all part of Joseph’s test. “Sure.”

  The tech fell short of the Jorenian environomes, but it was adequate enough. I programmed a simple loop I’d once spent a great deal of time in w
hile I lived in my creator’s house.

  Once inside the simulation, Shropana stopped and admired the detail. The damp, heated air was filled with the sounds of a dozen different birds and twice that many animals creeping about the dense undergrowth. The tropical rainforest, canopy soared three hundred feet above our heads.

  “Well done, Healer.” Shropana’s smooth skin was already beading with sweat.

  “Not really. The parameters could be more defined.” I pulled aside a low frond, revealing a solid block of green where there should have been shoots and root clusters. “I can get most of the leaves and trunks right, but I always screw up the details.” I inclined my head. “Half the birds are indigenous to North America, not the Amazon basin.” A large, amiable white bear ambled past us. “Did I mention how much I liked polar bears?”

  Shropana grinned. All those little daggerlike teeth made me shudder inside. “It is good to know the most-developed being in existence makes mistakes, too.”

  “Is that what he told you I am?” I made a tsking sound with my tongue. “I don’t think the theory culminates in fact. Like my program here.” I reached out my hand, and my polar bear reappeared. The triangular black nose snuffled my palm. “On Terra, a real version of this would be dining on my hand, not licking it. We’d also have to be in the Arctic, not Brazil.”

  “Healer, I suspect you can twist theory into any fact you desire,” Shropana said, patting the rump of the placid creature.

  “Or maybe I’m not so brilliant.” I went to the control alcove and terminated the loop. The rainforest disappeared. “The League has spent a great deal of valuable time and resources based on—what? The wild promises of one mad scientist.”

  He spread his hands. “What he promises could change the nature of existence on many worlds.”

  “For who? Tell me, Colonel, do you believe the League will make the technology that created me available to say, a crop cultivator? How about a data input clerk? Someone on subsistence? Or do you think they’ll reserve genetic enhancements for the inner circle of power?”