Beyond Varallan
Page 15
“It is possible.” The bald truth didn’t do wonders for my ego. Pnor went on. “Your behavior of late has been... piratic. Many crew members have witnessed you display extreme aggression. Your challenge to the Omorr is one example.”
My emotions had been on a roller coaster lately, I thought, and cringed a little. Still, that didn’t merit this kind of accusation. “Having a bad temper doesn’t automatically make me a killer, Pnor.”
Now the Captain looked at me. “You will have to be questioned further, Healer.”
“I understand.” The hell I did. “Am I permitted to continue working in Medical, or are you going to restrict me to quarters?”
“Cherijo,” Xonea said, with a note of warning.
“I have no direct evidence against you, Healer, however”-Pnor frowned-“your activities will be closely monitored until this matter is resolved.”
At least he hadn’t taken my work away from me. Yet.
“There is another procedure that must be followed now,” the Captain said. “Xonea will... help you with what must be done.”
“What if he was the one who did this?” I asked.
Xonea looked as though I’d punched him in the mouth. He spoke like it, too. “I am not the one who assaulted you!”
Pnor seemed even more uncomfortable. “Allow Xonea to... explain our custom. Perhaps, in time, you will remember something about the identity of your attacker.”
I’d been drugged, I reminded myself. “What if I can’t remember who it was?”
“Aberrant behavior such as this is rarely confined to one case.” The Captain made a disgusted gesture. “The deviant will repeat this act again, in time.”
“Thanks,” I couldn’t help saying. “That’ll help me sleep nights.”
Pnor left, his shoulders hunched.
“Okay.” I looked up at Xonea. “What’s this custom thing? Is it as much fun as transitional training?”
Xonea sat next to me and took my cold hands between his. “I would rather endure a thousand diversions to my path than harm you, Cherijo.”
“I know that.” I watched him rubbing my fingers with his. “What’s wrong? You look a little pale.”
His hands tightened. “I am disturbed over what has occurred.” He smiled a little. “What do you always say? Relax.” He did something with his hands, inverting his palms so that his fingertips rested on my inner arms.
I could relax later. No one was going to break into my quarters and drug me for their sick pleasure. “Tell me what we’re doing here, Xonea.”
Big blue hands covered mine. “You honor me, Cherijo.”
I shuddered. Kao had said the same thing, the first and only time we had made love. I remembered Kao touching me. His skin, like damp azure silk, smooth and resilient under my hands.
Xonea lifted my hand. The same odd, textured HouseClan symbol was hidden beneath his black hair, just below the left ear. It was shaped like a dark, soaring bird. I had once had one, when Kao Chose me. It had faded-
The large hand guided my fingers to my throat.
“My HouseClan symbol,” I said as I felt it. Absently I smiled. “I told him... it looks like...”
“Come, Cherijo. Etarra nek t’nili.” He said it again. “Come with me to the eternity we share.”
I snapped out of the trance. This was wrong. This wasn’t some kind of game plan to catch a rapist. HouseClan symbols didn’t just regenerate for no reason.
Xonea was Choosing me!
“No.” I jerked my hands from his. “What have you done?”
“I have Chosen,” Xonea said. He was there, pulling me into his arms.
“No, Xonea!” I struggled to free myself. “Take it back!”
“Hear me,” he said, and shook me once. I stared up into the hard white gaze. “This was the only way. I could make no other Choice.”
“The hell you couldn’t!” I yelled. “How could you do this? For God’s sake, I’m supposed to be your sister! Damn it, let go of me!”
Xonea released me. The shift made me sway on my feet. His hands shot out to steady me. I pushed him away.
While working as a Trauma physician on K-2, I’d been Chosen by Kao. It was something all Jorenians were supposed to do when they attained emotional and physical maturity. Some bizarre internal time clock went off, and they Chose a bondmate.
But this had nothing to do with that. It was all wrong.
“I refuse. No, wait.” Their laws were pretty complicated. “What happens if I refuse?” He didn’t answer me. “Tell me!”
“I am obliged to break the Choice. My life is forfeit.”
I stared at him. “Are you telling me you have to kill yourself?”
“Yes.”
Now I saw why the Captain had selected his words so carefully. “Pnor knew this, didn’t he? You both knew. This was what those strange gestures were about.”
“You have been violated. By Choosing, I can protect you, and be ClanFather to your child.”
Oh, my God. If I’d been raped as well as beaten, I could be pregnant. I shoved the thought aside. One disaster at a time.
“You knew I wouldn’t let you kill yourself,” I said. “Everyone knows how I feel about the ritual suicide you jorenians seem to love so damned much. I’d cut my own I throat first!”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I’d guessed lit all.
“Get out of my quarters.”
The next day, I stood at the launch bay doors with Reever, Alunthri, and a group of Jorenians. Xonea had elected to remain on board the Sunlace. I’d told him earlier that I’d either go along with this shotgun wedding, or shoot I him in the head. My decision was pending.
I don’t think my ClanBrother was worried about getting together with his Speaker.
We had landed on Garnot and were waiting for the last of the biodecon scans to be completed. I hadn’t mentioned to anyone that I was now, in Terran terms, engaged to be married. Or the fact it was because someone had beaten me (I hadn’t been raped, I’d learned, after Tonetka performed a thorough exam). Only Xonea, Pnor, and my boss knew.
“No bugs detected. You’re clear to disembark,” Dhreen called from the helm.
A large reception party of many different species was waiting to greet us at the bottom of the docking ramp. Most dressed in the flamboyant garments artists seemed to love.
The Jorenians dispersed, giving out their traditional kiss of welcome. Reever and I lagged behind. Alunthri disappeared at once into the group, re-emerging only to look back at us.
“We’ll follow you!” I called out. The Chakacat waved. The next moment it was exchanging views with a menacing-looking creature that resembled a gigantic snake.
“Well, what do you think, Reever?” I asked.
“I am not an artist,” he said.
“Me, neither.” I glanced at him. “By the way, thank you for my birthday gift.”
He eyed my smooth hair. “You’re welcome.”
The planet Garnot itself wasn’t very impressive. The vista seemed almost bland-all beige soil, indifferent vegetation, and drab skies. The very neutrality of the place worried me, until I saw the sprawling Main Transport complex. Constructed of a silver-white stone chiseled to throw off a million tiny flashes of light, the structure was dazzling. And that was just the first of many.
We followed the crowd to the main settlement, where more unique buildings lined the glidepaths and walkways. All of them were astonishing, as though the most beautiful structures from a thousand worlds had been transplanted here.
The crowd poured into a central towering stone edifice. Inside the ornately carved doors, a bewildering collection of art covered virtually every inch of available surface: paintings and pictographs. Sculptures. Dimensional imagers. Even light and sound creations that appeared seemingly out of thin air.
Once inside, the Garnotans crowded around Alunthri as a beautiful chime sounded, and they all bowed to the Chakacat.
“We welcome our newest colonist, Alunth
ri of Chakara,” the snakelike being said. “Garnot rejoices in you!”
For the next hour we circulated among the colonists. Alunthri eventually found me and Reever watching an immense sculpture reform itself at the mental command of its creator.
“Cherijo, have you seen-“ It paused as it saw my indulgent smile. “Forgive me. This must seem most frivolous to you both.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “I may take up telepathic sculpting myself. If Reever ever teaches me some of his brain tricks.” Reever made a sound that underlined his disbelief in my attainment of such a goal. I ignored him. “Well, what do you think of this place, Alunthri?”
“I have no words.” The colorless eyes scanned the hall with emotion too overwhelming to be categorized. “Only that without your friendship, I could never have come here.”
I ruffled its brow fur affectionately. “Be happy, pal.”
Darea and Salo joined us. They admired the towering crystal sculpture, then the sculptor made them an unusual offer.
“The crystal is partially sentient,” he said. He was a stout, benign-looking humanoid with three metallic ornaments piercing one angle of his wedge-shaped face. “It only allows itself to be shaped by a compatible mind.”
“A picky crystal,” I said.
“Would you care to try to impress your thoughts upon it?”
“Not me.” I didn’t want to scare the colonists.
He made the same offer to the Jorenians. Salo and Darea conferred quietly for a moment, then accepted. They mounted the platform with the artist as a small crowd began to gather.
“Join your hands thus.” He moved Salo into place, then showed Darea how to stand opposite. “Concentrate on each other, and the crystal. Allow it to see your inner vision.”
We watched. At first the two Jorenians seemed self-conscious, then something marvelous happened. The huge colonnade began to undulate. Elongating shoots stretched out, swirling around the Jorenians. They remained silent, only their hands touching, eyes closed, faces serene.
“Look,” I said to Alunthri. “It’s forming something.”
One portion of the crystal began to weave a beautiful, complex net that formed a spherical dome. Inside it, transparent matter swelled into larger, more bulky shapes that refined themselves into statues. I recognized Fasala playing with other Jorenian children. Birds flew around them. Yiborra grass sprang up under their feet. Flowers appeared.
In the center, the crystal formed an exact copy of Salo and Darea. His hands cupped her face. Her arms were twined around his waist.
Guess they didn’t need the word love after all.
“Glorious.” The sculptor breathed the single word in awe.
Salo and Darea opened their eyes, and glanced around them in blank astonishment. The crystal had obligingly left an aperture for them to duck out of, and allowed others to walk in and admire the new sculpture.
The artist was so delighted he insisted the couple take a piece of the sculpture back to the Sunlace. A blushing Darea chose the statue of Fasala. Salo seemed a little embarrassed as he joined us.
I nudged him with my elbow. “Nice going, big guy.”
“I did not know it would do all... all...” He gestured helplessly. “That.”
When the couple were drawn into conversation with another admiring colonist, I looked at Reever. “Want to take a walk?”
“Yes.”
We slipped out and down the main glidecar path to an open field, where several artists demonstrated their skills on a myriad of projects. Smiling faces greeted us along the way.
“I see why they chose this world for their colony,” I said. “It’s perfect: one big, blank canvas for them to paint on.”
“It can hardly detract from their efforts.”
I waited until we had left the artists behind us, and were walking through a woods of some rather insipid-looking trees before I spoke again. “I need to tell you something, Duncan.”
He pointed to a fallen trunk, and we sat down. I was careful to keep a space between us, unsure of what his reaction would be. I never knew with Reever.
“Something happened to me yesterday.” Briefly I filled him in on the assault. His expression never changed, but his eyes darkened as I related the part about Pnor’s suspicions, and how I’d been drugged and beaten. “I wanted you to know. You of all people would understand.” When he put an arm around me, I stood up at once. “There’s more.”
Reever got up, too. “It is not your fault, Joey.”
“What happened while I was drugged, no. What happened when Pnor left and Xonea...” I made a seesaw motion with one hand. “I should have realized-the way he was acting-but I was still pretty shaken up, and-“
“Cherijo.” He put a finger on my lips. “Just tell me.”
“Xonea Chose me.”
His hand fell away, and he stepped back. I remembered the last time he looked like this. I’d knocked him on his backside in a gnorra grove on K-2. He turned away.
“Reever, I didn’t ask him to do it. He thinks he can defend me this way, or something.”
“I understand.” He sounded uninterested.
“The only way Choice can be broken is if Xonea commits suicide.”
“I know.” Not very sympathetic.
“I can’t let a man die because he wanted to protect me!”
“Of course not.” Didn’t he feel anything?
“Duncan!” I grabbed him, made him turn around and face me. His features were in the usual blank mask. “Talk to me!”
Carefully he removed my hands from his tunic. Then he walked back toward the colony.
I sat down on the tree trunk. So much for explaining things to Reever. Dull, crumpled leaves fell around me.
I knew just how they felt.
The balance of our sojourn on Garnot went smoothly, although Reever avoided me like a virulent contagion. Dhreen noticed all the tension, but thankfully for once didn’t comment. Before we boarded the launch to return to the Sunlace, Alunthri took me aside and pressed something in my hands.
“To remember me,” the Chakacat said, and added a neatly wrapped ball of string. “For my little brother.”
I hugged Alunthri, smoothed a hand over the back of its silvery head, then ran to the launch. Reever, I noted, had seated himself as far away from me as possible, next to some trader who had arranged passage to the next system. Reever never once met my eyes as Dhreen piloted the launch back to the ship.
I didn’t know why he was so furious. I was the one being forced into marriage, not him.
The lump in my tunic pocket brushed against my forearm, and I withdrew the small object Alunthri had given me. It was a pouch, with a garment pin inside. It had been designed to represent two faces: mine and Alunthri’s. When I turned it over in my hand, I saw it had been fashioned from the license and inoculant chips the Chakacat had once been forced to wear.
I tightened my hand around the beautiful symbol of our friendship. Sniffed a lot. Tried not to burst into tears.
Once we were back on the Sunlace, I disembarked quickly, not waiting for the others. I couldn’t face spending the entire day in my quarters, either. I needed something to do, so I took the gyrlift to Medical.
Most of the cases acquired in the aftermath of the mercenary attack were ready to be released or were already discharged. I made rounds with Adaola, reviewing cases I had already memorized. The Omorr resident was sterilizing a batch of instruments, and nodded to me as I walked by.
Pnor was right; I’d been too aggressive on more than one occasion. I thought about all the bridges I had burned in the last day. Maybe it was time to mend one.
“Squilyp?” He looked up from the biodecon unit. “Got a minute?”
He hopped along with me to Tonetka’s office. Once inside, I pulled out a chair in front of the Senior Healer’s desk. I was gratified to see he did the same. Maybe this would work.
“You aren’t scheduled for duty today,” Squilyp said.
“No. I was restles
s and needed something to do.” I glanced back at the ward through the viewer. “You probably feel the same way when you start sterilizing everything in sight.”
He made the equivalent of a Terran shrug. He wasn’t going to help me, but then, it wasn’t his job.
“Squilyp, I owe you an apology.” That got his attention. “I’ve said some things to you I regret. Done some things, too. Like the fight.”
“You won the solicitation fairly.”
“It shouldn’t have happened.” I got up, thrust my hands in my tunic pockets. This sort of thing was hard for me. “I’m a physician, sworn to heal. By hurting you, I violated my oath.”
“I provoked you into making the solicitation.”
I swung around and faced him. “I didn’t have to accept, Squilyp. I could have called the whole thing off.”
“You have your pride.”
“And you have yours. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I’d like to start over with you. Clean slate.”
He cocked his head to one side. I guessed clean slate didn’t exactly translate into Omorr, from the puzzled look.
“Forget the past,” I said. “You and I are colleagues. Let’s start acting like we are.”
“I see.” The Omorr hopped up, approached me slowly. “So you expect me to disregard the hostility between us?”
“Yes.” Was he going to take a swing at me? There was nowhere for me to go now. I was in the perfect position for him to regain his title.
“You consider me a colleague? An equal?”
“Squilyp, I’ve never worked with a more gifted resident. There are doctors who would sacrifice a limb to have your abilities. Your work is flawless.” I watched as he extended one of his limbs toward me. “However, if you don’t think it’s possible-“
“On your world,” he said, “is it done like this?”
He was picking up my hand with his membrane, curling it gently around my fingers. “What?”
“A gesture of friendship?”
“Oh. Yes. This is how it’s done.” We shook our respective “hands.”
“Thanks, Squilyp. I really do appreciate this.”
“I don’t understand Terran ways,” he said, his gildrells undulating slightly. Up close like this, they weren’t too terrible. Actually, they gave his face a sort of elegant beauty, like a flowing white beard. “Yet I know sincerity when I see it, Healer.”