by S. L. Viehl
“Your—” He used a word my vocollar could not translate. “She died before you left Terra, but she has used a form of telepathy to contact you—Cherijo—in the past. It always had a severe effect on her.” The lift doors opened. “I will tell you what I know about Maggie after the briefing.”
“After the briefing we are going to Vtaga.” I took hold of his arm. “Who was this Maggie person? Did she have red hair? Use words I can understand. Please.”
“Her name was Maggie. She was engaged by your creator to act as a mother to you,” Reever said, as if he hated telling me this. “She had red hair when she posed as a human being.”
“Posed?”
“Maggie was an alien life-form masquerading as a Terran.” His tone chilled with distaste and something uglier; something I almost thought was hatred. “She claimed to have used subliminal implants to enable her to communicate with you.”
“So my father made me from his cells and experimented on me, while my mother tampered with my brain so she could speak to me from the otherworld.” I was suddenly very glad they were both dead.
“Maggie claimed many reasons for helping Joseph Grey Veil to create you, among them to carry on the work of her extinct species, which she claimed founded all of the humanoid races in our galaxy. I do not believe she has ever told you the truth, nor am I convinced that she is dead,” Reever said. “I have encountered her more than once in the past, and what she did to your mind required more than subliminal implants.”
Another muddle of events from a past not my own: a husband who could but would not control my mind and body and a dead ensleg intent on possessing me through my own subconscious. “Can no one simply leave me alone?”
“I have never been able to resist you,” my husband said as we walked from the lift to an area on the third level.
I looked around but saw only a large, closed entryway. “What is this place?”
“It is the captain’s reception room for …” He paused, choosing his words. “Important visitors.”
I looked down at the simple tunic and trousers I wore. The garments Reever had brought to Medical for me were as modest as any others I was made to wear, but now the ensleg clothing seemed too tight, too revealing. Also I was bareheaded—something an lisleg woman never was in front of visitors. “It would be better if I covered my face.”
“No. They need to see you,” he assured me, and guided me into the room.
The important visitors looked exactly like Xonea and the other Jorenians, all blue-skinned and black-haired giants. They wore the Adan garments in the same colors and patterns of muted blue, black, and gray as those who presently served among the crew. These men and women appeared far more heavily armed, however, and their expressions seemed less than welcoming.
“Council Member Cherijo Torin,” Xonea said in a loud voice from one side of me, making me jump a little.
The visitors turned toward me and performed bows accompanied by a terse, swift gesture, all in perfect unison.
Reever gripped my wrist and spoke into my head. They do this to show that they recognize your authority over them.
There were more than seventy people in the room, and I was in charge of all? I looked up at the captain. “I should not have threatened to remove you from command. Would you do this?”
Xonea’s mouth curled up on one side. “Too late for that, ClanSister.”
One of the bigger males, with wide purple streaks in his black hair, approached me. He wore a strip of black-and-silver, metallic, woven cloth across his tunic, upon which were sheathed dozens of small blades that had no hilts. His six-fingered hands moved expressively as he bowed again. “Tlore Adan, ClanLeader of the Adan. My House is yours, ClanJoren.”
ClanJoren is a title of honor, given to you for saving their homeworld, my husband explained. It means you belong to all of their tribes, and they will defend you to the death.
How do I respond? I thought back.
Offer your hands out, palm up. He will take them and hold them for a moment. Address him as ClanLeader. He hesitated before adding, Say something pleasant. He released me.
I did as he said with my hands, and Tlore grasped them gently. “Please call me Healer, ClanLeader,” I said politely. I would never remember to answer to ClanJoren. “Your blades are beautiful. Are they for show, or do you use them?”
Startled, low chuckles erupted around us, and the skin around Tlore’s yes crinkled. “I have had occasion to use them.”
I had not meant to say anything funny, but I was not averse to taking advantage of his good humor. “Shall we begin this briefing?”
Tlore offered me his arm, and escorted me to the U-shaped table. I sat between him and Reever, with Xonea taking a place at the console in the middle of the room.
“Council Member Torin has elected to visit Vtaga, the Hsktskt homeworld,” the captain said, and touched the console panel before him. A dimensional image of a large, dark-blue-and-orange planet appeared above him and turned slowly. “Atmosphere, gravity, and climate are within our tolerance range, and SubAkade TssVar has guaranteed safe passage for our people. Our probes have picked up no evidence of airborne contaminants.”
“The Hsktskt maintain an expansive planetary defense grid,” Tlore said, making an elegant, encircling gesture with one hand. “The technology is unknown to us, but they keep it enabled at all times to block access to the surface. The League has studied and attacked the grid for many years, but our sources say they have yet to find any vulnerability. This is a direct threat to the healer’s safety and must be deactivated.”
“TssVar will not agree to that,” Reever said, “but I know how to bypass it.”
Xonea gave my husband an astonished look. “How so?”
Reever rose and went to the captain’s console, and used the controls to superimpose a glowing green web of energy around the image of Vtaga. He magnified the image, zeroing in on a small, rust-colored spot at the top of the planet. “The main grid generators are here. They are heavily guarded, but a strike team with the proper ordnance could destroy the station.”
“We will be unable to take anything but personal weapons to the surface,” Xonea said.
Reever changed the image, magnifying another section of the planet. “You will find all the ordnance you need here, in this dockyard. It is also guarded, but not as heavily as the polar grid station.”
Tlore appeared astounded. “How do you know these things?”
My husband straightened. “I was once enslaved by the Hsktskt. I was freed when I saved the life of SubAkade TssVar, who made me his blood brother. As such, I pretended to serve the Faction as a spy while I used my position to free other slaves. I traveled all over Vtaga and gained access to most of their planetary defense intelligence.”
Beside me, the Adan ClanLeader stiffened. So did his people, who were all staring at Reever now.
What was he doing, admitting this so openly? The Jorenians had remained neutral during the Hsktskt-League war, but they had no love for the League. Garphawayn seemed to think that was because of its treatment of my former self. Joren had broken off all relations and treaties with the League when it had declared Cherijo to be nothing more than an escaped lab animal.
“What did you intend to do with such treacherous knowledge?” Tlore asked, his voice deceptively mild.
“Initially I meant to raise an army of mercenaries and return to raid Vtaga,” Reever said in his blunt fashion. “I thought I might repay the Hsktskt for their many acts of brutality against the warmblooded.” His gaze shifted to me. “My wife taught me there is no justice in such revenge. So did Teulon Jado.”
The Adan seemed to relax, as did Xonea. I saw love and pain in my husband’s eyes. Giving such information was perilous, but he was doing so for me, to keep me safe while I was on the planet.
“My ClanSister must be guarded at all times while on the planet,” Xonea said. “Reever will serve as her personal escort. Qonja Adan”—he nodded toward a quiet male I had se
en around the ship—“will act as bodyguard. ClanLeader Adan, the council suggests a mission team of ten warriors and five specialists.”
That meant I would be traveling with seventeen people. “I think that is too many, Captain. We wish to make a show of strength, not create offense.”
“I agree,” Tlore said before Xonea could argue. “My kin are the best warriors Joren has to offer. Five guards and two specialists will afford the healer the protection she needs without provoking the beasts.”
“I hope you are correct, Tlore. The Faction will not allow anything but standard communication devices to be brought to the surface,” Xonea warned. “Transponder and locator implants will be considered as surveillance devices and removed upon arrival.”
I did not want to think of how the Hsktskt would remove them, not that I would have permitted him to implant anything in me anyway. “There may be treachery involved on the part of SubAkade TssVar, but we cannot go there acting as if we expect it. We only have to be watchful and cautious.”
“The Hsktskt do not lie,” my husband said. “They consider it beneath them. That is why they use other species to spy for them. They regard such things as too personally demeaning to do them themselves.”
“Luckily our kind does not share their distaste.” Tlore nodded to one of his men, who began to read from a datapad.
The officer related information gathered by various Adan intelligence officers regarding the present situation on Vtaga. The information, which had been solicited from mercenaries and other frequent visitors to the Hsktskt homeworld, indicated that the native population could be on the verge of civil war.
“Our sources tell us that the present social conflict on Vtaga centers on three concerns: the plague, which has killed hundreds and has created serious tensions among the native population; the older segment of the Hsktskt population, who opposed the peace talks, which they view as cowardice, and consider the plague a punishment for participating in them; and the proposed end to Faction-run slaver operations. Much of the Hsktskt trade system is based on slave revenues, and it is said that the merchant class is extremely unwilling to end its lucrative agreements with outside species.”
That seemed far too interconnected to me. “It is as if someone caused this plague in order to harm the Hsktskt no matter what they do.”
“That is also a possibility we have considered.” Tlore exchanged a look with Xonea. “Whatever we discover about this plague, Healer, we must go carefully.”
“As you say, ClanLeader.” Hopefully our care wouldn’t cost us our lives.
As the Sunlace and the Adan ships assumed synchronized orbit above Vtaga, I dressed in my physician’s uniform and checked my medical case. The rest of our equipment and supplies were already stowed on board the launch that would take us from the ship to the surface. I had taken Marel to Salo’s quarters, where Darea welcomed her and showed her the room she would share with Fasala while Reever and I were on-planet.
Marel did not seem concerned about our jaunt to the surface of Vtaga, but her parting embrace was longer and rather tighter than usual.
“I honor you, Mama,” my child whispered. “Be nice to Daddy.”
“I will try,” I said as I smoothed her golden curls back from her brow. “Why do you say this about your father to me, Marel?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. He feels stiff when I hug him. He looks at faraway things. Take care of him, Mama, please.”
I promised her that I would, and that we would both return as soon as we could. I knew that we might be walking into a Hsktskt trap. I was relying on Reever and his knowledge of this species to ensure that we could return, but there was this plague, of which I knew nothing but secondhand information.
I told Marel none of this, and it grew inside me as I left her and returned to our own quarters to finish packing.
“Stop worrying,” my husband said from behind me. His hands stroked the outsides of my arms. “You will do what you can for them, and we will protect you, and that will be enough.”
“I pray SubAkade TssVar agrees with you.” I turned to slip my arms around his waist and rest my cheek against his heart. Reever seemed indestructible, but I knew he was not. “He knows you helped Cherijo to destroy the slave depot and free the prisoners held there. Will he seek revenge for that while we are here?”
“TssVar saw me when he came to Akkabarr to negotiate a cease-fire with Teulon,” my husband said. “If he had wanted retribution for Catopsa, I would not have left that deck alive.”
The thought made me shudder. “Perhaps he was being polite in front of the other leaders.”
“Hsktskt are never polite.” Reever tilted up my chin and kissed me. “And, like you, I am not that easy to kill.”
The jaunt from the Sunlace to the planet took a short interval, with Reever serving as pilot. I used the time to check over my medical equipment. The Senior Healer had provided me with a portable diagnostic array, programmed with every bit of knowledge we had on the Hsktskt species and known epidemiology Reever had fitted the unit with a special interface that would allow it to communicate with similar machines on the planet. No one but my husband could speak Hsktskt, so I and the rest of the team wore League translation devices he had programmed to translate Jorenian, Hsktskt, and Iisleg around our wrists.
When I had finished checking all the medical equipment, I activated my datapad and began reviewing various epidemics experienced by reptilian species on other worlds.
“Healer.” Qonja Adan came to sit beside me. “Is something wrong?”
I gave him a quick, wry look. “It takes less time to say what is right, Kheder.”
He smiled. “I meant with you. You have not looked once through the view panel since we left the ship.”
“I have never been to another world beyond my own,” I said. “I am nervous.”
“Akkabarr is an ice world. Vtaga is not.” Qonja made a fluid gesture. “It may seem extremely hot and humid at first. If you have trouble with the air—”
“I can wear a breather, yes, Reever told me about them.” I looked through the clear panel that showed the outside of the launch. We had passed through the thin upper atmosphere and were descending swiftly toward the surface. It seemed bizarre to see the place where the Hsktskt rasakts dwelled on the ground, like some bizarre melding of iiskar and skim city. The constructions appeared squat but immense, stretching out in orderly sections for miles. Beyond the borders of the settlement stretched long, curving, dark sections of blue, green, and yellow.
“What are those?” I pointed to the vivid curves of color.
“Those are the rain forests. One-third of this world is covered with them. Another third is desert, which looks white from orbit.” Qonja did something to the panel to alter the view to show a murky brown squiggle beyond the rain forests. “The rest is covered by seas like this one.”
Reever had shown me photoscans of the oceans on Kevarzangia Two. “I thought such waters were blue.”
“Not on every world. Often the chemical content and evolution of marine life cause …” The big Jorenian stopped and chuckled. “Your pardon, Healer. I forgot that you do not care to hear such things.”
“I care,” I assured him. The more I knew about Vtaga, the better equipped I was to discover a cure. “Please, go on.”
Qonja peered at me. “You are serious.” Before I could reply, he added, “Your pardon, Healer. I am not used to such … polite attention from you.”
“Women on my homeworld are polite or they die.” I heard the launch’s engines transition. “But our discussion must wait. I think we have landed.”
The Adan guards removed their harnesses and checked their weapons as they assembled around me. Qonja handed me my medical case and checked my wrist device before joining them. All of the men’s movements were as controlled as their expressions.
I had never seen the Jorenians so silent or intent. After weeks of being among them as they smiled and chattered and laughed like boy children
preparing for their first hunt, it unnerved me.
Reever came to stand beside me. He had not worn his usual black garments, but was dressed in a fitted tunic and trousers with a mottled pattern of dark green and blue. No one could see the sheaths beneath his clothing, or the access seams that would allow him to draw his blades. For once he was more heavily armed than I was.
“Analysis of air, water, and soil samples shows no dangerous miicroorganisms,” he said quietly. “TssVar has already examined the planetary food supplies, medicines, and indigenous life-forms, and indicates they are also uninfected.”
“We will check them again.” I slung the strap of my medical case over my shoulder, and saw Reever flinch. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” He looked over at Qonja. “She is not to leave our custody at any time for any reason. If I am removed or detained, take her back to the ship at once.”
I glared at him—if he thought I would leave him to the mercy of these beasts while I escaped to safety, he was deranged—but said nothing. I was beginning to see how effective a weapon silence could be.
Qonja inclined his head. “I will, Linguist.”
The Adan assembled into two lines around me, Reever, and Qonja. The first pair opened the hull access panel and stepped into the air lock, where a bright beam of light passed over them.
“It’s a biodecon scanner,” Reever told me. “It identifies and neutralizes any exotic microorganisms we carry on our bodies, and provides an internal scan of each passenger so that the natives know we are what we appear to be.”
“That sounds prudent.” There were people who were not as they appeared to be? “What happens to those who do not, ah, pass this scan?”
“They are arrested and detained until their true form and motives can be identified.” Reever moved with me into the air lock, and took my hand in his. “I will explain about the altered life-forms and shape-shifters among other humanoid species another time.”
The light felt warm and soft against my face, and then the panel on the other side of the air lock slid open and we stepped out onto the docking ramp. Vtaga’s heavy, hot air wafted in my face as if I were standing over a wide vent shaft. The alien dampness and weight of it as I breathed in was very nearly liquid, and vastly unpleasant. I remembered Qonja’s warning and struggled to keep my breathing slow and calm.
