Endurance

by Richard Chizmar

  Something touched me—a large, ridged flipper that curled over the curve of my shoulder. Then the other. Through my tunic, I felt the warmth of contact.

  “Okay, you’ve seen me.” I looked up, and the edge of Noarr’s hood brushed my brow. “Noarr, please.”

  “You were angry with OverMaster HalaVar.” His flippers slid up, and pushed into my hair. “Why?”

  “How did you …” The clip I wore unhinged and fell to the floor. “Excuse me. What are you doing?”

  “What I have wanted to, since first I saw you.” Noarr spread the soft, dense weight over my back, then cradled my neck between his fins. The warmth of his breath touched my lips. I forced my eyes to stay open as his face drew closer.

  “You’re a very attractive male.”

  “I thank you.”

  “And there is no way I’m getting involved with you … like this.”

  He gazed at me, untroubled. “No?”

  “No.”

  He wasn’t going to kiss me. He was an alien, so he probably thought kissing was repulsive. “You’re too dangerous.”

  “Am I?”

  He didn’t kiss me. He tasted me. Pressed his mouth to my face, and his tongue rasped over my flesh.

  “Noarr?” There was something extremely unsettling about being in this position. Not the least of which was this sudden, bizarre sense of déjà vu—like I’d done this before. But when? With Kao? “Why are you, um, doing that?”

  “I wish to.” Both fins ran down my back and curled around my waist to support me. He lifted his mouth from my skin. Put it next to my ear. Whispered like a lover. “I like your taste, woman.”

  Good, I hadn’t made another accidental betrothal, like I had with Kao and Xonea. Now what was I supposed to say?

  “Right … thanks.” I shook my head to clear it. The scene with Reever came back to me, and I stiffened. “No. Wait. I can’t do this.”

  He set me away from him. “Another time.”

  I was in no shape to argue the point. “Sure. Right. Another time.” A thousand years from now.

  He slipped out of my chamber, while I sat down weakly on the edge of my pallet and tried not to hyperventilate.

  It was a rebound effect, I thought. I’d rejected Reever and Noarr had simply reminded me of Kao for a moment. That was all.

  I hoped.

  Pulling off Noarr’s audacious scheme gave me plenty to think about. What we’d accomplished this time could work again. For the first time since I’d landed on Catopsa, I allowed myself to hope.

  I decided not to confide in Zella and Vlaav, who accepted my apology for chasing them off. Not without some fuss, of course. The Saksonan worried that my attitude would get the staff sold off to traders. The nurse was simply irritated about being yelled at.

  “Textbook perfect, those dressings were,” she said, thumping down an instrument tray with unnecessary force.

  “You’re right, they were.” I checked the dwindling stock of preserved synplasma and wrote up orders to produce what I hoped we wouldn’t have to use. “Pardon me for venting my spleen on you.”

  Zella’s suspicious gaze changed. “Entitled, I suppose you are.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I saw a number of Lok-Teel crawling around the occupied berths and sighed. “Do me a favor, Zel. Take those blobs off the patients, before someone starts shrieking again.”

  FurreVa reported for the first of the craniofacial surgeries I’d planned. After going over the procedures with her one last time, I had Zella prep her for the initial procedure. Vlaav volunteered to assist as I performed the exploratory and neurological repairs.

  “What caused the trauma?” The Saksonan asked as I carefully peeled the damaged muscles away from the underlying cranial structure.

  “A large, bladed weapon, from the look of things.” I scanned her brain tissue, and wondered once more why the big female had refused to tell me exactly how she’d gotten the injury. Whatever had hit her had been a centimeter shy of killing her outright. “We’ll deal with the brain damage first—that’s minimal—then see if we can’t fix the distortion to the cranium.”

  Relieving the pressure on the brain caused by scar tissue took only a few minutes. Repairing the skull itself was the real challenge.

  Due to the nonunion healing of the original trauma, I had to realign and graft all the bones involved, from above the orbital rim down through the nasal arch and into the mandible. I’d never done such extensive resetting—but I’d never seen a patient survive such a wound, either. I had Vlaav attach one of the pre-adapted reconstruction plates, and explained how they would hold the rebroken bones together as the transplanted osteogenic cells took hold.

  I closed the incision and carefully placed the Hsktskt female’s huge head in a support halo. “Once the cranial bonesetter stabilizes the trauma sites, I’ll get started on the nerve and soft tissue repairs.”

  Vlaav was utterly fascinated by the proposed work, and asked if he could assist on all the reconstructive procedure. “I’ve learned more watching you cut today than I did in my first two years at Medtech.”

  “Sure.” I stripped off my gloves and mask to grin. “Only next time, you’ll have to do some cutting yourself.”

  I saw Wonlee a few days after the slave auction, and he confirmed that the Aksellan females had been successfully smuggled off the planet. Since the Hsktskt didn’t count how many bodies actually went into huge disposal units, he told me, no one would discover the hoax.

  “Then we can do this again.” I thought of the many ways I could simulate death among the various species that made up the slave population. Many would only need a chemical nudge to go into a natural state of hibernation. “How do I get in touch with Noarr?”

  “I don’t know.” The Lieutenant glanced at the hidden door at the back of the infirmary. “He has a ship hidden somewhere outside the compound. Uses the tunnels to come and go as he pleases.”

  Not if he was counting on using me as part of his underground. “We’ll just see about that.”

  “Dr. Torin.” Zella appeared, with one arm around the Terran who’d rescued Jenner. He swayed on his feet, and a short gash across his chin was bleeding freely down his neck. “This man needs immediate attention.”

  Wonlee slipped out of the infirmary as I dealt with Gael Kelly’s wound. Once we’d eased him down onto an exam table, I did a thorough brain scan. From the readings, I surmised someone had swiped at him with claws or another sharp object. Sharp enough to partially severe the inferior quadratus labii muscle. Readings also indicated slight malnourishment and moderate dehydration.

  “Start a glucose infusion, and get that suture tray over here, Zel.” I irrigated the wound and wiped the blood from Gael’s jaw and throat. As I did, I surreptitiously removed his headgear and mine. “They throw you in the confinement pit?” He nodded and grimaced as I applied the topical anesthetic. “Were you released, or do you have to go back?”

  “I’m foostering, for now.” His bright gaze slid to the open door panel, where two guards were lounging, then back to me while his voice dropped to a murmur. “Have you heard about this chancer? Calls himself Noarr.”

  There were too many centurons in the vicinity for me to have a discussion about my new ally, even without the monitored headgear on. “No, I haven’t.” At the same time, I glared at Gael, then moved my eyes toward the waiting guards. The suture laser hummed as I activated the beam and started repairing the muscle damage. “Don’t move, don’t talk, or you’ll end up with an ugly profile.” After I was done with the delicate work, I sealed the wound. “Okay. Now what smacked you in the face?”

  “One of the thicks.”

  “Thicks?”

  He gave me a wry grin. “An OverCenturon.”

  “Sloped brow, short temper, hates Terrans?”

  “That’s the one.” Gael reached up to finger his chin, and I slapped his hand.

  “No poking.” I sterilized the outer derma once more, then put a small aerated dressing over the
fresh sutures. “Let’s get you over to a berth. You’re going to be staying with us for a day or two.”

  As I helped him to his feet, Gael leaned forward to whisper against my hair. “Mind yourself, dote. The thicks have a sleeveen among the prisoners, spying for them. This chancer could be the one.”

  I’d learned blind trust could be lethal, I thought as I got Gael settled in. Perhaps hope was just as deadly.

  A much-needed interval of calm prevailed over the next week. FurreVa’s bone grafts took, and Vlaav and I continued with the reconstructive work. The meningitis patients showed astonishing, collective improvement, and I knew I’d soon be able to discharge the healthiest back to the general population. Not that I was in any big hurry to do that. Far as I was concerned, they could remain inpatients as long as they liked. Gael’s chin healed without complications, and he practically demanded to be released.

  “Sick of pulling me plumb, I am.”

  “Okay. But do me a favor,” I said as I wrote up his discharge notes. “Study up on standard Terran, will you? I can’t understand half the stuff you say.”

  “I can speak stanTerran,” Gael told me, and winked. “Only Oirish reminds me of home, and it isn’t in the thicks’ database.”

  Maybe I’d study up on Celtic dialects.

  My elation over the success of FurreVa’s second surgery quickly dissipated as another three prisoners were brought in, suffering from the same bacterial meningitis. Although Vlaav and I combed over every inch of their bodies, this trio carried no parasites. Nor was there any contamination of the food and water samples I had brought from their cells for analysis.

  Something had to be done. I gave Wonlee a message for Noarr to see me as soon as possible, but the elusive alien had yet to reappear.

  Then for some reason FurreVa decided she’d had enough of the repair work, and demanded to be released. I argued with her until she ripped the infusers from her limbs and rolled out of her berth.

  “I haven’t spent two shifts putting your face back together for you to go and ruin my work!” I yelled as she stomped past me. “And I still have to finish the cosmetic repairs, you stupid lizard!”

  She paused for a moment. “I do not want any more fixing of my face, Terran.” With that, out she went.

  Furious with myself and the Hsktskt, I went over and kicked the privacy screen, which fell over.

  A naked and definitely frightened Jgrap sat up and pulled Kroni into a protective hold. “You may turn me over to the beasts, but I will not permit you to harm—”

  “Oh, give me a break.” I turned my back and stalked off.

  Finding the teenagers at it again, and my inability to stop FurreVa sent me off duty in a bad mood. That’s probably why I never saw the shadow move out from behind my door panel when I closed it.

  One moment I was pulling off my tunic, and silently cursing the only hope I had; the next something catapulted me face-first into a crystal wall.

  “Time we settled accounts, Doctor.”

  Shropana.

  My hands came up just in time to prevent me from cracking my skull open, but a heavy blow at the back of my neck sent me sliding to my knees. I fell over, heard Jenner yowling, and raised my head far enough to see the Colonel holding my furious, struggling cat by the neck.

  “I understand this thing means something to you.” He tightened his claws, and cut off Jenner’s airway. “As much as my command meant to me, I think.”

  “No …” I started to drag myself up, desperate to save my pet.

  Shropana stepped close enough to kick me back down onto my side, then dangled my cat above my face. “Bid it farewell.”

  Jenner’s frantic movements slowed, and I tried again to get up. Another kick sent me spinning over into the bottom half of my console unit. I flung my hand up, hoping to hit the signal relay switch, but the Colonel only drove his foot into my abdomen once more.

  “Watch, Doctor. Watch what you love die.”

  The explosion of pain made me writhe, but I wouldn’t let myself black out. I kept my eyes on Jenner, on the weak, scrabbling movements of his paws against Shropana’s grip. I had to get up, get to him—

  “Shropana.”

  Pulse fire slammed into the Colonel, which sent him reeling across my chamber and Jenner’s limp body to the floor. Reever appeared above me, pointing a rifle at the League commander. Gasping for breath, I crawled until I could reach my pet, then pulled him into the curve of my arm. My fingers spread over his abdomen. Hurt but breathing. Still alive. Relief made me sob as I cradled the small, warm body against my breast.

  “Centurons.” Reever deactivated the rifle and came to stand over me. “Remove this prisoner immediately.” He put the weapon aside and lifted me into his arms.

  “OverMaster?”

  Reever inhaled sharply. “I will deal with it.”

  I was too dazed to do more than gape back up at him. Stare at his narrowed, glittering eyes. Lips thinned to a white slash. The muscles along cheekbones and jaw were taut and flagged with a dark red tinge. I couldn’t believe it. Unemotional, blank-faced Reever showed every physical indication of being completely enraged.

  It didn’t surprise me. It dumbfounded me.

  At the same time, one of the centurons hauled a semiconscious Shropana to his feet. “What shall we do with this one, OverMaster?”

  Reever glanced down at me, then turned to reply. “Execute him.”

  I admit, a part of me agreed. Another part wanted to watch them do it, too. But the physician within overruled both. “No. Don’t. I’m okay. Jenner’s still alive.”

  Reever’s color returned to something resembling normal. His tone remained the same—as chilling as it had been after the Drift Nine incident. “I didn’t ask for your approval, Doctor.”

  The guards dragged Shropana out of my chamber. Reever carried me over to my berth and sat down, still holding me in his arms. He ran his hands over my abdomen, and I winced as he found the two places the League commander had driven his foot into. “I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

  “Good idea, but wait.” I eased Jenner into my lap and checked him over with shaking hands. “I think he’ll be all right, but I need to scan him and … then … I should check …”

  The shock set in at last, and my teeth began to chatter. I didn’t remember much after that. Reever evidently carried me and Jenner to the infirmary and left us with Vlaav. My physical reaction was of short duration, and once I re-emerged, I insisted on performing the scans on my beloved pet personally. Only when I’d verified he had little more than a sore throat did I let the resident run an abdominal series on me.

  Reever signaled me later from Command. “You will be reassigned two guards at all times,” he said.

  Guilt made me snap at him. “Why? Shropana’s dead. I’ll hear Devrak coming a mile away.”

  “The Colonel has escaped. Report to my chamber at once.”

  I reported. The support braces around my bruised ribs dug into my skin as I walked through the door panel and confronted Reever. “Well? Did you find him yet?”

  “No.” Reever rose from his console and came around toward me. Before I could stop him, he took hold of my right arm and tugged up my sleeve. “Why do you keep removing it?”

  “I don’t.” I wasn’t going to look at my arm. I already knew the slave code was gone. “It heals by itself. What are you doing?”

  “You must bear the proper designation.”

  This was the same man who’d ordered a prisoner executed, just for kicking me and trying to strangle my cat? “No. It won’t work.”

  “Come with me.”

  Instant, nerve-shredding fear clutched at me. My lungs strained for air. “No. I won’t let you do that to me again. It doesn’t work, Reever.” He was pushing me through the door panel and out into the corridor. “Damn you, don’t keep doing this to me!”

  Nothing I said had any effect on him. Neither did the kicking or shrieking when he grabbed me and slung me over his shoulder. He
deposited me on my feet in a chamber I hadn’t seen before (his?) and secured the door panel before going to a very familiar-looking console.

  There was no way I could punch a hole through the plasteel panel between me and freedom. I ended up pounding on it anyway.

  “Let me out of here!”

  “Prepare the PIC application.”

  My muscles locked. No. He wasn’t going to burn me, I wouldn’t let him. There were no handy-dandy floor clamps in here. He couldn’t burn what he couldn’t hold down.

  Then something stole over me, like a gentle caress. His voice, inside my head.

  Why are you afraid? I won’t harm you. The familiar paralysis followed.

  Oh yes, you will. I fought, pushing Reever from my mind, groping for any amount of control over my body. Nothing worked. He filled my thoughts, prodding and poking at my walls, while he moved me from the door to the console and stretched out my unmarked right arm. No. Don’t burn me, please, Reever, don’t, don’t!

  I won’t let you feel the pain. An extensor clamp emerged from the console and encircled my right wrist. Reever’s mental command became imperative. Stop fighting me.

  No no no no no no no—

  A laser activated. Deep inside myself, I found an untapped source of energy and tapped into it, hurling what I found at Reever. Whatever it was drove him from my mind, and restored partial command of my body. I jerked as the heat seared into my flesh, and screamed.

  The concise pattern scrolling over my forearm became blurred as I fought to pull my hand free. The clamp tightened automatically, and something snapped in my wrist. More pain, deeper and harder, rolled up my arm and into my chest.

  Can’t breathe. Frenzied straining and pulling only made the constriction and torment worse. Stop it, stop you’re killing me!

  A new voice hammered into my ears. “HalaVar. What is this?”

  “End application program.” Reever caught me as I fell, and held me with one arm as he slapped me hard across the face.

  My head fell back, but the sharp impact of his palm dispelled the attack, and I inhaled a huge, rasping gulp of air. It cleared my head enough for me to regain all my senses, and put my fists to good use. I hit him as hard and fast as I could. I wasn’t landing any effective blows, but the pleasure of pounding on him felt too wonderful.