Omega Games

by S. L. Viehl

  “Yes, but we will be here to comfort her.” He gave me a sharp look. “You will not weep now.”

  “No.” I almost smiled. “I will not weep.”

  A short time later we arrived at an auxiliary transport dock, where Reever was waiting with the ship he had acquired for our sojourn.

  “I was resolved to say nothing, as it is not my place to disapprove of this venture,” Squilyp said, his gildrells undulating with his agitation. “But Jarn, I think it foolhardy for you and Duncan to travel alone.”

  “It is how it must be.” I looked out at the ships that were landing and launching. “If my child is unhappy with being left behind, or cared for by Salo and Darea, you will signal me and tell me.” He nodded. “I thank you, Senior Healer.” I climbed out of the vehicle and started for the gate.

  Squilyp hopped quickly to catch up with me. “Wait. You know that the Torins will be happy to send a detachment of guards with you and Duncan. You don’t have to tell them why you’re leaving Joren.” He stopped me just before we entered the security checkpoint. “You’re not listening to me.”

  “I have done nothing but listen to you since I left Akkabarr,” I assured him. “You asked me to trust you, and I have.” I looked into his worried eyes. “Now you must do the same for us.”

  “You could be walking into a trap,” he said, his gildrells snarling with his agitation. “Have you thought of that?”

  I had to remind him of an unpleasant truth. “Squilyp, when you and Reever and the others were searching for Cherijo, you knew that finding her— me—could reveal the truth behind the Jado Massacre. That what Cherijo had witnessed might goad the Jorenians and their allies into a war with the League of Worlds.”

  He turned his back on me and inspected the cargo haulers moving freight out to the loading docks. “It is not the same as this.”

  “It is exactly the same.” I felt a surge of sympathy for him. “You concealed your feelings, but part of you hoped that Reever would not find me, because if he did, and the truth were revealed, millions might die.”

  His gildrells became spokes. “I suppose Garphawayn told you all that.”

  I nodded. “She admired your courage.”

  “My courage.” He glared at me. “I was your best friend. You taught me more about surgery than I can say. Reever spent two and a half years quietly going mad while he looked for you. But if it had ever become a matter of choice—”

  “One life to save millions?” I asked softly. “There is no choice in that, my friend.”

  His eyes glittered. “I thought of it, and I attempted to prepare myself to act, but I could not wish you dead. Since you returned to us, I have tried everything I know to bring back your memories—”

  “And I am grateful, Squilyp.” I took my medical case from him. “Let Reever and me do this now. For all those who will be lost if I do not.”

  Three strong arms came around me as the Omorr embraced me. Against the top of my head, he muttered, “You will send regular relays, and let me know that you are well and not being abducted, enslaved, or otherwise harmed. Or I will come after you myself.”

  “I promise.”

  I left Squilyp at the gate, where he stood and watched me until I reached the docking pad and the ramp to the scout ship, where Reever was waiting. I turned and lifted a hand.

  The Omorr scowled as he returned the gesture, and hopped back to the glidecar.

  “Husband,” I said as I inspected the vessel, which in close proximity seemed rather small. “This will be our transport?”

  “She’s called Moonfire,” he told me. “The very latest in Jorenian research vessels, scout class.”

  I set down my case and walked around the nose. “The latest, or the smallest?”

  “The latest,” he said firmly. “And the fastest.”

  Although Moonfire was hardly larger than a standard ship-to-surface launch, it had a sleek, narrow shape made glossy by hundreds of thousands of dark green, rectangular hull plates. A row of round, deep-space transceiver ports formed an arch over the blue-green viewer panels. The fuselage expanded and divided itself into five curved propulsion thrusters, which cradled a small escape pod. The ship could have easily been mistaken for the be-jeweled, clawed hand of some enormous deity.

  “It is a beautiful little thing,” I told my husband. “But hardly inconspicuous.”

  “On the contrary.” Reever took a small device out of his pocket. “The Zamlon have been experimenting with various types of vessel camouflage.” He put his thumb to the device, and a purple halo of light appeared at the scout’s nose, illuminating the dark green hull plates briefly before they began to fade. In another moment the ship had vanished from sight.

  I blinked, and then looked all around us. “Where is it?”

  The corner of Reever’s mouth curled in a rare show of amusement. “It didn’t go anywhere. Go ahead, reach out and touch it.”

  I peered at the place where the ship had stood, and saw the very faintest transparent distortion rippling the air. When I reached out, I felt a strange, cool vibration and then the solid surface of the hull. Beneath the shadow of my palm and forearm, a section of the dark green panels reappeared.

  “The hull plates are programmed to respond to the environment,” Reever told me. “When activated, they project an image that matches the ship’s surroundings.”

  “A ship covered in devious mirrors.” I shook my head. “Ensleg wonders never cease.”

  Reever and I boarded the scout, and as he took the helm and prepared for our launch I stowed my medical case and took a brief look at the rest of the ship.

  Moonfire offered two small living chambers, a tiny galley, and storage compartments filled with equipment and provisions. The propulsion systems and environmental controls took up the rest of the space. It would be cramped, but compared to the ice cave krals in which I lived on Akkabarr, it seemed a palace.

  I joined Reever at the helm and, at his gesture, sat down in the copilot’s seat and fastened the launch harness across my shoulders and torso. I did not touch the wide panel of controls, viddisplays, and databanks in front of me. “To where do we journey first?”

  “I have arranged to meet with Alek Davidov,” he said, referring to the trader who had once helped him free Hsktskt slaves. “He has many connections among the free traders. He can help us track the one that issued the bounty on you. He may also be able to help us discover who planted the grenade on your patient.”

  I had not met any other Terrans besides Reever. “Do you trust him?”

  He turned to me, as if surprised at the question. “Davidov posed as a slaver for many years. He used his family’s wealth to buy and free thousands taken by the Faction during raids. To my knowledge, he has never asked for recompense from any of them.”

  “Then he is a generous man for a Terran,” I said. “Or a complete fool.”

  “Alek is . . . complicated. Damaged, in some ways, by his experiences.” He paused. “I know it is difficult for you to trust strangers, but I once counted Alek as my closest friend.”

  Friendship was another ensleg concept that did not sit well with me, but I trusted my husband’s judgment. Unlike normal humans, Reever could not form emotional attachments, so his trust had to be earned.

  As for Davidov, I would reserve my opinion for now. “I look forward to knowing him.”

  Transport issued our launch slot, and we left Joren without incident. I felt a wave of panic sweep over me as the planet dwindled behind us and Moonfire left orbit, but I forced myself to look out at the night snow of stars spreading out before us.

  “Do you know, when I left Akkabarr for the first time,” I said, “I watched my world shrink, and panicked. I thought the heat from all the ensleg ships in orbit was melting it away. And then, on the journey here, to see all that endless blackness, and more stars than I could count . . .” I looked through the view panel. “I never knew the universe so vast, and myself so small.”

  Reever input something
on the controls. “I never feared space as much as the worlds to which I sojourned, “ he admitted. “When I was very young, I suffered a great deal of anxiety at the prospect of meeting new species. Each time my parents initiated landing procedures, I would run to my quarters and hide in a different place, hoping it would be the one that they would not discover. Of course, they always found me. Then I would spend the next six months or year among whatever species inhabited that world while my parents performed their research.”

  What Reever’s parents had done to him revolted me. “Did you fear being left with the ensleg?”

  “Most of them were friendly and curious, but I hated them touching me. When they did, their languages invaded my head and made themselves plain to me.” He made an adjustment on the helm console. “You should have heard them, using translators to welcome my mother and father, all the while secretly hating them and thinking of ways to make them leave.”

  My heart ached for him. “Did you never speak of this to your parents?”

  He shrugged. “My mother did not believe in linguistic telepathy. She was like all Terran scientists, and put trust only in what could be seen, smelled, heard, and touched. What my father thought of me, I cannot say. He would not be distracted from his work by an anxious boy.”

  I reached out and placed my hand over his. “We cannot choose to whom we are born. We can only learn from their mistakes and try not to repeat them with our young ones.” My heart tightened as I thought of Marel’s little face.

  “I did not wish to leave her behind, Jarn,” Reever said bleakly, “any more than you did.”

  I curled my hand tightly around his. “I know.”

  According to the signal Reever had received from Alek Davidov, we were to rendezvous with his ship, the Renko, near a trade depot world at the very edge of the Varallan system.

  “There.” I saw the trader vessel stationed above Trellus, a dead world made habitable by the installation of a dome colony. Cargo ships passing through the system frequently stopped at the planet to refuel, pick up supplies, and enjoy the various amusements. Oddly there were no other ships in orbit at the moment. “Should I send a relay?”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Reever touched an emitter on the communications panel that glowed red. “It’s Alek. He’s signaling for permission to shuttle over.”

  There must have been a full crew on board the Renko, but my husband’s friend came alone in a launch to Moonfire. It had been part of their agreement about the meeting, that no one else know that I accompanied my husband.

  No matter how loyal Davidov’s crew were, four million stan credits would loosen any tongue.

  As the men connected the two vessels so that Davidov could climb into our ship, I went back to the galley and prepared food and drink. I did not know what the ensleg custom was, but among my people it was rude to welcome a friend without preparing a meal for them. Men were also more at ease with each other if they shared food as well as talk.

  It also gave me something to do besides imagine what would happen if my husband’s friend had grown less noble since the last time they had met.

  “Duncan.” Long legs clad in black trousers climbed down the ladder from the upper hatch. Davidov jumped down the last two feet and peered around him. “Is this a fighter made to look like a launch, or do your Jorenian friends have a sense of humor?”

  My husband clasped hands with the Terran. “It is good to see you again, Alek.”

  I stood back, out of Davidov’s line of sight, so that I could have a private look at him. The two men might have been brothers, so similar were their height, build, and coloring. Then the subtle differences became more apparent to me.

  Davidov had darker, thinner hair, which he wore shorn like an Iisleg female’s. Above a wide-bridged nose, two night-colored eyes shifted all around, taking in everything. An angle-shaped scar on his cheek pointed to his left ear. His ready smile thinned his full lips around pretty teeth, but his good humor did not lighten the flat blackness of his eyes. I disliked people who manipulated their facial expressions to make others think they felt something they did not. I breathed in and became even more unsettled.

  Although Davidov appeared Terran and healthy, I could not smell him at all.

  The Terran seemed to be looking for something other than Reever, his fingers splayed as if prepared to grab it. His next words confirmed my impression. “Where is this woman of yours that I’ve heard so little about?”

  I stepped out of the doorway and came to stand beside my husband.

  “This is my wife, Jarn,” Reever said. “Jarn, my friend Aleksei Davidov.”

  “Call me Alek,” the Terran said, regarding me as a jlorra might a limping stray. This two-legged snow tiger did not pounce, however, but offered a paw. “You are a lovely little thing, aren’t you?”

  I briefly touched his hand but didn’t answer his inquiry. I was small, but I didn’t consider myself particularly lovely. Among the Iisleg, I had been regarded as a skinny runt. Ensleg also had a habit of asking useless questions to which they did not expect answers.

  “Show me the rest of this interesting plasteel can,” Davidov said to Reever.

  I waited in the corridor as my husband escorted his friend around Moonfire. As the ship’s systems were limited, it didn’t take long for the two men to return.

  “Terran, obviously, but not the usual sort,” Davidov was saying as the men rejoined me. “Jarn, your husband won’t tell me how you two met. Did he purchase you from one of his old enemies, or were you so desperate that you had to settle for the likes of him?”

  I raised my brows. “Reever and I met during the rebellion on Akkabarr. He was battle blind, and I repaired the damage to his eyes. Later, I threatened to kill him, but he talked me out of it and showed great courage. For that reason, and another, I agreed to be his woman.”

  “Really.” He bent down, putting his face closer to mine to whisper, “Do you have an unattached sister, perhaps?”

  He was attempting to use humor to flatter me, but among my people men did not compliment women, and women did not laugh at men. Reever did not respond to jests of any kind, so he also remained silent.

  “I can certainly see the attraction between you two,” Davidov said, chuckling and shaking his head. “Do you have a corner in this sardine can where we might sit and talk?”

  “I have prepared food and drink for you in the galley.” I gestured. “This way.”

  Davidov spent the next hour talking about his recent sojourns, pausing at times only for breath. Reever responded now and then, briefly, but seemed content to listen. I refused to eat and drink with the men and stood to one side, observing. On Akkabarr females did not eat until all of the males were finished and had left the shelter. An act of deference, but also an excellent way to learn what the men would otherwise never tell us.

  I no longer had to follow those customs, but I wanted to watch the Terran. Something about him did not feel right. I had no evidence except that each time I looked at him, the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  “After trying not to walk on eggs for three months, let’s just say I’ll think twice before I board another breeding Tingalean,” Davidov said, ending another anecdote about difficult passengers he had transported. “But enough about the trade. I’ve gathered some information about the bounty on your wife.” He took a disc from inside his flight jacket and offered it to Reever. “Basically the signal source is untraceable; the originator used Bartermen channels to transmit the first relay. Whoever wants you, Jarn, knows how to cover his tracks.”

  His tone seemed odd—almost as if he admired the trader hunting me. “You assume a male issued the bounty?”

  “Figure of speech.” His teeth flashed. “I never assume anything. The Bartermen are also banking the reward and brokering the exchange and, from what I understand, they’re doing it for nothing. Free of charge.”

  Reever inserted the disc in the galley terminal and switched on the screen. “There is no su
ch word as ‘free’ in the Bartermen language,” he said as he skimmed the data. “Is this all you were able to find?”

  The Terran nodded. “Not much, I know, but based on what there is, I’ll wager every mercenary in the four quadrants is out hunting your beautiful wife.”

  Davidov didn’t think I was beautiful. He might have wished me to think so, but his body language was projecting something very different. He didn’t like me and, for some reason, he resented me. Perhaps it was jealousy over my relationship with Reever. The two men had been friends long before I became involved with Duncan.

  Or it might be that Davidov didn’t like me simply because of who and what I was. A cloned Terran, created to be the perfect physician.

  “I would like to avoid the bounty hunters,” my husband was saying.

  “We could let it be known that I was killed by the grenade explosion,” I told my husband. “Squilyp and I can use a little of my DNA to salt some organic ash. Scanners would then read and identify them as my remains.”

  Davidov looked intrigued. “A grenade exploded and you weren’t killed?”

  “The Jorenians would never support such a deception. “ Reever took my hand in his and squeezed it before he looked across the table at Davidov. “What else have you learned?”

  “Nothing more about the bounty, my friend.” He produced a sympathetic expression that fell just short of convincing. “However, if you’ll allow me to, I’d like to consult with the lovely doctor here about a situation involving one of those shifters you want to find . . . what are they called?”

  Reever exchanged a quick look with me. “The Odnallak.”

  “That’s them.” Davidov turned to me. “I heard you had some problems with them on Vtaga.”

  I didn’t consider being choked with Odnallak bone dust or discovering that it had caused hundreds of deaths as “some problems.” “What do you wish to know?”

  “I heard an interesting story about them while I was passing through the N-Jui quadrant.” Davidov settled back in his chair. “A long-route hauler and I were having a drink together one night, and after he got pretty well sauced he told me that he’d met one. Spent several weeks onboard a ship with it, in fact. Never knew it was a shifter until the day it left.”