Beyond Varallan

by neetha Napew

  “Enough!” Xonea shouted, folding his arms over his abdomen. “You will comply or I will embrace the stars!”

  “Oh, no, you won’t.” I sprang the trap. “Guess what I found out? You don’t have to kill yourself if your Chosen refuses. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “You know nothing about Choice!” He sounded furious and, wonder of wonders, suddenly couldn’t look me in the eye.

  “Really?” I wondered if he’d been counting on that. “Ktarka Torin would disagree with you. She filled me in quite a bit about the subject.”

  Pnor gaped for a split second before recovering his composure. “Cherijo, Ktarka is an exceptional case.”

  “Oh? And I’m not?”

  Xonea thrust himself away from me and slammed out of the office. Pnor and I watched him go.

  “My ClanNephew honors you, Senior Healer.”

  “Your ClanNephew can’t have it his way, so he’s throwing a tantrum.” Or was it something more menacing than that? I wondered. I caught Pnor’s pained expression and sighed. “Believe me, this is the only logical solution.”

  “It would be much simpler if-“ The Captain searched for the right words.

  I beat him to it. “If I just shut up and played the good little Jorenian wife-to-be?” My foot tapped the floor. “Sorry to spoil your plans. I have no intention of further jeopardizing the safety of the crew, simply to act as bait for a killer. Nor will I let Xonea commit suicide when he doesn’t have to. Let’s make this simple, Captain. Grant my request. Put me off the ship so I can surrender to the League.”

  “I cannot.” Pnor looked regretful. “You are the only connection we have to the traitor.”

  After a second, confidential conference, this one with Duncan Reever and Captain Pnor (minus Xonea), we decided to conduct the link immediately. Pnor worried that my “fiance” might storm in and start inflicting bodily harm on Reever. In deference to my condition, the Captain insisted that we perform the link in Medical.

  I agreed. Reever didn’t react. Squilyp simply thought it was a bad idea.

  “Cortical coupling?” The Omorr looked askance. “I wasn’t aware humans were capable of such functions.”

  “We aren’t,” I said. “Normally. Reever and I are... exceptional.”

  “A dangerous method of investigation.” The Omorr accessed the database from his display. “Reever must project his RAS impulses directly to your brain stem.” He tapped an appendage on the side panel.

  “Assuming that’s how he does this link thing, my brain stem will be fine. I’ve suffered no ill effects from previous encounters.”

  “What is RAS?” Reever asked.

  “An acronym for the reticular activating system,” Squilyp replied. “The RAS is made up of conductors in the brain stem reticular formation. They receive sensory neuron impulses from the periphery and relay them to the thalamus. The thalamus sends them all to all parts of the cerebral cortex.”

  “In other words, if you stub your toe, the RAS tells your brain it hurts,” I said.

  The Omorr gave me a dirty look.

  “I see.” Reever leaned forward and examined the display. A dimensional schematic of the human cerebral cortex rotated slowly as Squilyp studied the data. “I did not realize it was so complex.”

  “It is not simply entering the brain. For you to access Doctor Torin’s mnemonic accumulation, you must identify and use the specific neuronal chains involved. If you can locate them in the subconscious mind.” Squilyp keyed something on the touchpad. “Here.” He highlighted a section of the display. “I believe the specific memories may be located in or near the hypothalamus.”

  I sat down next to the Omorr. “I see why you don’t want us to do it.”

  “Exactly.” Squilyp peered at the display. “If you do, I must closely monitor both of you.”

  I Reever cleared his throat. “Could one of you explain? In less technical terms, perhaps?”

  I translated for him. “Reever, a part of the human brain serves as a connection between the psyche, or mind, and the soma, or body. It’s called the hypothalamus. Certain parts of that work as reward centers for primary drives, like drinking or eating. It is also responsible for maintaining emotions and keeping the body in a waking state.”

  “Where is the danger in accessing this hypothalamus?”

  “By accessing the hypothalamus, you may stimulate cho-linergic and adreneric fibers, which release NE, or norepi-nephrine and ACh, or acetylcholine. They’re two of the chemical transmitters that regulate the central nervous system. Too much of either one could kill me.” I consulted the display again. “Access the limbic system, Squilyp. I want to see something.”

  When the display enlarged a sagittal view of the brain, I highlighted the five vital areas.

  “Here’s where I want you to oversee the link. Calibrate the neurotracer to monitor at the cingulate gyrus, isthmus, hippocampal gyrus, uncus, and hippocampus. Watch for fluctuations in neuron activity. Scan continuous vitals on both of us, too.”

  “I still believe it is an unsafe procedure.” The Omorr’s gildrells fluttered with exasperation. “How can I break this coupling between you?”

  “Direct cortical electristim.” I waved my hand as Squilyp began to protest. “I know, I know, it’s dangerous. It’s also the only way you can interrupt the link if one of us loses control.”

  “Cherijo?”

  Again I gave the short version to Reever. “Squilyp is going to be monitoring us by tracing the activity in my ‘emotional brain.’ If my levels spike on the neurotracer, he’ll know I’m in trouble. He’ll use low-voltage stimulation to disrupt my brain waves. That should break the connection, and prevent my NE or ACh levels from killing me.”

  Reever’s mouth compressed. “Shock treatment?”

  “Not exactly, but close enough.” I got up and called for a nurse. “Let’s get started. I want to get this over with.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  No House Divided

  The Omorr and two nurses spent several minutes hooking me up to a neurotracer, monitor portals, and everything else Squilyp could think of. Reever got a vitals band wrapped around his wrist. That was it. Didn’t seem very fair.

  We reclined on two exam tables, me on my back because of all the hookups, Reever on his side facing me. I looked over at him. His hair was getting long, I thought. It fell past his shoulders now, thick and light. My fingers itched as I recalled how soft it felt. Vivid blue eyes swept over me as Duncan made his own scrutiny.

  “What?”

  “You are still too thin,” he said.

  “Oh, really? Well, you need a haircut.” Squilyp bent over me and checked everything for the fiftieth time. I pushed his membranes away. “Quit fussing, Squil. Get on with it.”

  “Doctor...” The most confident surgical resident on the ship actually hesitated. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Positive. You don’t want to know what the alternative is.”

  “Very well.” The Omorr gave a terse series of instructions to the nurse by the monitoring equipment, then turned to Reever. “You may begin.”

  My eyes closed as I settled back. I heard the hum of the monitors, the quiet voices of the nurses in the background. A plopping sound, as Squilyp hopped over to the neurotracer. A sense of being paralyzed, then-

  Cherijo.

  It was Reever. Inside my head. Just beyond the barriers I had unconsciously erected.

  You’re getting very good at this, I thought. Too good.

  Yield to me.

  Now came the hardest part for me. I had to yield my mind to him. Complete and total surrender. I’d only done it twice before.

  Yield to me, Cherijo. We must hurry.

  With a mental kick, I knocked down the wall between us. Duncan flooded me like a sweeping, white-fringed ocean wave. He sank into my mind, farther than before, until I almost lost the tangible thought-connection between us.

  Duncan?

  Yes. I am here. Try to remember the fi
rst time the presence came to you.

  A gold-glowing, silent chamber swallowed me. I wasn’t alone. Couldn’t see who else was there, but I felt it.

  Yes. You are in the first dream state. Turn around. Look for the presence.

  Shifting. Pivoting. Searching.

  “Cherijo...”

  Low, beseeching voice.

  You know this person, Reever thought.

  I ignored him and floated toward the sound.

  You thought it was me. Became angry. Wanted to... He made a strange sound. Knock a hole through my brain?

  I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My heart slammed against my ribs as the nightmare sank over me.

  “... help you.”

  The presence swirled around me. Wanted me. Wanted to get inside me. I’d felt that same kind of desperate, irrational desire before. But from who?

  Reever, I finally sent out a desperate plea. Get me out of here.

  I see hands reaching for you. Jorenian hands.

  Yes. Whatever. Get me out of here, now!

  Duncan came up all around me. His arms enclosed me, cradled me, protected me against the hands. Those horrible hands that had beaten me, over and over. So much anger.

  It’s all right, Joey. Hold on to me.

  Duncan? I felt him leading me from the chamber into another.

  I will stay with you. Experience it with you.

  My perception of the chamber changed. Here the familiar, benign light seemed cold and chilling. The air that I once thought so soft was smothering. Warmth flooded the chamber. I felt as though I were being immersed in a vat of congealing blood.

  “Outcast...”

  It was crooning to me. Stroking my skin with its fingers. I shuddered violently; even being battered was better than this.

  There is love, Duncan thought, his arms still around me. Love that has been denied. The love you refused.

  The only person I’d refused lately was... Xonea.

  Belonging to no one... weeping for an end to the loneliness... was that me, or the presence? Or both of us?

  Reever! I turned my face from the seeking lips, reaching for the pure, white light that came from Duncan.

  You must face your attacker, Cherijo.

  The hands held me in place. I was squirming, trying to free myself. Something about me being little, and being shown the path. Low, amused laughter.

  Look, Cherijo. See the face of who violates you.

  I couldn’t look. I had to get out of here-

  A powerful surge of energy blasted me out of the link.

  “Doctor!”

  Squilyp held me down on the exam table. I could feel my body heaving and twisting, and couldn’t control it. Just as suddenly as I was jerked out of the link, the seizure ended. I collapsed on the table, trying to catch my breath.

  “Give me her stats!” Squilyp yelled at a nurse.

  “BP 225 over 97, Heart rate 140.”

  No wonder my head was buzzing. If my vitals didn’t level out, I’d have a stroke. How much electristim had the Omorr administered?

  “Norepinephrine in the red range,” the nurse said. “Epinephrine also elevated.”

  “Fifty ccs valeumine!”

  I felt the syrinpress at my throat, then the immediate, soothing effect of the tranquilizer. My heart rate slowed, my muscles went lax, my blood pressure dropped. The feelings of extreme anxiety and shame seemed to be evaporating, too.

  Drowsy from the drugs, I opened my eyes and saw Duncan next to me. He was holding my hand.

  “Hey.”

  “She’s conscious,” he said over his shoulder, before turning back to me. “Squilyp would like to know how you feel, Doctor Torin.”

  “Tired. Glad it’s over.” I tried to keep my eyes open. “Find out who it was, Duncan?” He shook his head. “We will. Next... time.”

  The Omorr’s face appeared. “Doctor?”

  “Report.” I tried to sound like a Senior Healer. Ruined it when I added, “Please.”

  “We traced the beta wave patterns to the hypothalamus. Two separate sets swept from the precentral gyrus of the cerebrum’s frontal lobe.”

  “He means you were in my brain,” I said to Reever in a stage whisper. The meds were making me goofy.

  “Activity in the hypothalamus rose dramatically. You began relaying impulses back and forth. Axon terminals at synapses and neuroaffector junctions subsequently increased production by a factor of ten. Acetylcholine, norepinephrine, and gamma-aminobutyric levels went immediately into red range.”

  “You found the memories just where Squilyp said they’d be,” I said. “Triggering the memories released too many chemical transmitters. My central nervous system overloaded.”

  “Why is she not in a coma?” Reever asked the Omorr.

  “I don’t know,” he replied as he shone an optic light in my eyes. I scowled and tried not to blink. “Perhaps because there were synthetic amounts of both AChE and COMT bombarding the hypothalamus.”

  “What?” That cleared some of the valeumine fog from my brain. “You shot me up with artificial enzymes?”

  Squilyp snapped off the light and helped me sit up. “No, Doctor, I did not. Linguist Reever is not the only person interested in stimulating your synapses. The enzymes were released shortly after Reever initiated the cortical coupling. I located two dormant pockets of the same in your upper digestive tract.”

  “Time-released neurotransmitters.” I held my now-aching head with both hands. “This gets more weird by the minute.”

  “What does that mean?” Reever demanded.

  I gave him a weary smile. “It means someone dosed me with enzymes that artificially stimulate my brain.” Which explained all the unexpected mood changes I’d been experiencing. No wonder I’d been so hot and edgy all the time. “I want them neutralized, Squilyp.”

  The resident nodded. “I will run a full hematological series, then administer the proper counteragent.”

  Reever helped me down from the exam table. That was when Xonea burst into the Medical Bay, thrusting staffers out of his way as he headed straight for us.

  Xonea, who’d wanted to protect me. Who’d Chosen me. I’d refused him. Angered him.

  Just as I’d refused and angered the one in my dreams.

  “Duncan?” I pulled half a dozen hookups from my head. Adrenalin surged in my veins, counteracting the tranquil-izer. “Go out through the emergency panel. Now.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him around the platform.

  “Cherijo!” The commanding tone halted us both in our tracks.

  I turned around slowly. “Xonea.”

  “You allowed him to violate you.” My ClanBrother’s black hair streamed wildly down his back. He carried one of the multibladed swords from the display in his quarters in one of his huge fists. From the look on his face, he meant to use it.

  “Reever.” I didn’t take my eyes off the enraged Jorenian. “Get out of here. Find some help.”

  Only one person could stop two-hundred kilos of rampaging, homicidal Jorenian male. His Chosen. Unfortunately, that was me.

  The Omorr hopped between me and the huge Jorenian pilot. Squilyp faced slow death by dismemberment, just to shield me and give Reever time to escape. I’d have to give him a raise, if any of us survived this.

  My resident appeared very calm. “May I help you, Pilot Torin?”

  “Yes.” He raised the fan-shaped blades and leveled the tips at the Omorr’s thorax. “Remove yourself from my path.”

  I glanced behind me to make sure Reever was gone. He was. “Get out of the way, Squilyp.” The Omorr looked back at me. His gildrells were stiff and bristling. “It’s okay. Call Ship’s Operational. Ask them to send someone up here.” Not that they’d be able to do much. Maybe assist in scraping up my remains off the deck.

  “She’s been badly injured and is still recovering,” Squilyp said to Xonea. “If you even attempt to harm her, I will challenge you, here and now.”

  Xonea nodded once. The Omorr reluctantly hoppe
d out of the way. Now I faced the consequences. I never expected it would be carrying a sword with seven-no, eight-blades on it.

  “Problem, ClanBrother?” I asked.

  Xonea looked around me. The lines around his nose tightened. “So the coward has fled.” A flicker of pain crossed his face for a mere second, then was gone.

  “I assume you’re referring to Linguist Reever. Yes, he’s gone. What’s this for?” I waved a hand at the sword. “You want to hack me up with that thing?”

  “I defend my ClanSister,” Xonea said with a distinct snarl.

  “Reever wasn’t hurting me, Xonea,” I said. The meds kicked in unexpectedly, and a thick fog muddled my senses. What timing. “Uh, before you kill me... would you mind...”

  “Cherijo!” The sword dropped from his hand and clattered on the deck. I stumbled back against the exam table. Strong blue hands caught me, lifted me.

  Squilyp was there in an instant. He began another vitals scan. “BP and heart rate are too low. Doctor, you must rest now.” He gave Xonea a look that said this was all his fault.

  “Good idea.” My fingers curled under Xonea’s. I was too tired to fight him anymore. Let him do whatever he wanted to me. I’d sleep through the whole unpleasant experience.

  “Once the drug wears off-“ the Omorr began to say, and Xonea cut him off with a growl.

  “She has been drugged? Again?”

  I listened as the Omorr explained the aftereffects of the link. Everything seemed to be dwindling down into a long, dark tunnel.

  “Did he touch her? Did he harm her?”

  “I would never harm her.” That was Reever.

  My eyelids agreed to open one last time. Duncan and Dhreen were at the door panel behind Xonea. So were about twenty of the crew. Reever had brought the whole cavalry. Captain Pnor stepped up beside Duncan when Xonea swiveled.

  “Xonea?” He studied his ClanNephew’s face. “Explain how you knew the Senior Healer and Linguist Reever were here performing this cerebral connection. Why you came here armed.”

  Pnor was trying to make him repeat the threat, I realized, so ClanKill could be declared. Xonea’s sword was kicked somewhere out of the way; I heard it slide across the deck.