ully weaves in the clues to build a murder mystery with several surprising ramifications.”—Space.com

Endurance

“An exciting science fiction tale . . . fast-paced and exciting. . . . SF fans will fully enjoy S. L. Viehl’s entertaining entry in one of the better ongoing series today.”

—Midwest Book Review

“[Endurance] gets into more eclectic and darker territory than most space opera, but it’s a pretty engrossing trip. Recommended.”—Hypatia’s Hoard

“A rousing medical space opera. . . . Viehl employs misdirection and humor, while not defusing the intense plot development that builds toward an explosive conclusion.”

—Romantic Times

Shockball

“Genetically enhanced fun. . . . Cherijo herself has been justly praised as a breath of fresh air—smart [and] saucy. . . . The reader seems to be invited along as an amicable companion, and such is the force of Cherijo’s personality that it sounds like fun.”—Science Fiction Weekly

“Fast-paced . . . an entertaining installment in the continuing adventures of the StarDoc.”—Locus

“An exhilarating science fiction space adventure. The zestful story line stays at warp speed. . . . Cherijo is as fresh as ever. . . . Fans of futuristic outer space novels will want to take off with this tale and the three previous StarDoc books, as all four stories take the audience where they rarely have been before.”—Midwest Book Review

Eternity Row

“Space opera at its very best. . . . Viehl has created a character and a futuristic setting that is second to none in its readability, quality, and social mores.”

—Midwest Book Review

“S. L. Viehl serves readers her usual highly entertaining mix of humor and space opera. This episode is enlivened by the antics of [Cherijo’s] daughter, Marel, and by an exploration of aging and immortality. As usual, I look forward to the next in an exciting series.”—BookLoons

Rebel Ice

“Well-drawn cultures and fascinating aliens.”

—Publishers Weekly

“It’s fast, fun, character-driven, and left me wanting more . . . one of my all-time favorite sci-fi series.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Both gritty and realistic.”—Romantic Times

“A thrilling addition to the series.”—Booklist

“A wonderful piece of space opera.”—SFRevu

“Seems very realistic—almost as if the author visited that world and decided to write about it. Rebel Ice is a terrific outer space science fiction novel.”—Bookwatch

Plague of Memory

“Another exciting adventure in this well-regarded series.”

—Monsters and Critics

Blade Dancer

“A heartrending, passionate, breathtaking adventure of a novel that rips your feet out from under you on page one and never lets you regain them until the amazing finale. Stunning.”—Holly Lisle

ALSO BY S. L. VIEHL

StarDoc
Beyond Varallan
Endurance
Shockball
Eternity Row
Rebel Ice
Plague of Memory
Omega Games

Blade Dancer

Bio Rescue
Afterburn

ROC
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http://us.penguingroup.combound up in others’ and in science and in the messy,
complicated connection between the two.”

—Dr. Atul Gawande

One

The Iisleg, the people of my homeworld of Akkabarr, never believed in peace. The word itself has no meaning in their language. They name the time between conflicts as either malatkinin, an opportunity to recover from the last battle, or kininharkal, the chance to prepare for the next.

Until this moment, I thought I had left that sort of idiocy behind on my homeworld.

“You can’t do this.”

The dark blue faces of the three males watching me remained impassive as I rose from the conference table and moved around the room. Someone clever had worked hundreds of t’vessna flowers into various arrangements, doubtless to honor my return. I plucked one small purple flower from a hanging silver basket and held it to my nose. The sweet fragrance calmed me a little.

I had been brought here after my husband and I returned to Joren, the homeworld of my adopted people, and landed our scout vessel Moonfire at HouseClan Torin’s main transport. I had been told the meeting was some sort of official welcome. Instead, I had been treated to an intense round of questioning, and informed of what amounted to a declaration of war on another world.

“Healer Torin.”

They didn’t like my moving around; they wanted me where they could see my face. I returned to the table. “You can’t do this,” I repeated. “Over two thousand beings live on that colony.”

“Your pardon, Healer Torin, but we must.” Malaoan Adan, the Jorenian Ruling Council’s chief legal adviser, was the oldest of the three, judging by the number of purple streaks running through his braided black hair. He spoke slowly and carefully, both to project the gravity of the situation and so that the vocollar translation device I wore around my neck converted his words correctly into Iisleg, an obscure form of Terran, the only language I understood. “This matter has now become a legal issue.”

“How so?” I knew almost nothing about Jorenian law, but as I remained one of Joren’s chosen rulers, I saw no reason to confess that. “I have related to you everything that happened to me and my husband.”

“I must respectfully question your account of the events, Healer.” Volea, HouseClan Torin’s chief of security, wore his solid black hair in a warrior’s knot, and had several healed scars on his face from blades, pulse burns, and impact injuries.

If they doubted me, they had some reason to do so. “On what basis?”

Volea consulted the datapad in his hand. “According to the information retrieved from the Moonfire’s database, your ship did not make an emergency landing; it was fired upon and crashed. Audio records indicate that you and your bondmate were forcibly removed by drones not under your command.”

“You have interpreted the data incorrectly.” I was glad my husband had survived our ordeal on Trellus, because as soon as I saw him, I was going to kill him. “While we were journeying through space, my husband and I ran some simulations of those scenarios. The database and the audio records must have been damaged during the emergency landing, orome laws.

He nodded quickly. “Multiple offenses have been committed. The colony is small and has few defenses. We need send but two or three vessels to eradicate the population. We would not have troubled you with this matter, but we wished to reassure you that justice will be served.”

The pressure increasing at my temples made me imagine for a moment my skull flying apart. “You are not listening to me. I was stranded on the colony with my husband. I know what happened and who was involved. The colonists are not guilty of any crime. I made a full report. It is over. I wish to see my daughter now.”

“So you will, once this matter is decided.” Xonea smiled at me, and not in a particularly friendly fashion. “As first ClanSon of the Torin, I say it is far from finished.”

I heard a sound that made me think of the jaws of an ice snare snapping around my ankle. Fortunately, it was the access panel behind me, opening to admit a tall, lean male dressed in black garments, his golden hair loose around his handsome if somewhat impassive features.

“Duncan.” I rose and almost knocked over a stand of t’vessna worked into the Jorenian symbol for the path, and went to my husband, taking his hands in mine. I needed to touch him in order to establish a telepathic link between our minds. They are going to send a fleet of ships to destroy Trellus. They found evidence of what happened and they’re blaming the colonists. They even found the wretched Sovant’s DNA on our garments when we were scanned.

Worry not, beloved. He pressed his mouth briefly to my brow before his clear blue eyes moved to study the faces of the other males. “I was not made aware that this welcoming committee intended to separate me from my wife in order to intimidate and interrogate her.”

Malaoan and Volea shifted in their chairs, clearly uncomfortable.

Xonea, in contrast, didn’t twitch a muscle. “Much as we were not made aware of your true reason for leaving Joren. Sit down, Duncan.”

When I began to tell him that he had no right to order either of us to do anything, Reever put one of his hands over mine. One newly healed wound slashed across the lattice of old white scars covering the flesh from his knuckles to his wrist.

“As you say, Captain.” He led me back to the table and sat down with me, his eyes never leaving Xonea’s. “Before anything more is said or decided, Jarn and I shield the colonists of Trellus.”

“As bondmate of a naturalized Jorenian, you have limited rights under our laws, Linguist Reever,” Volea said, his tone decidedly cool. “They do not include making decisions for a Ruling Council member, or shielding those responsible for threatening her life.”

“Then I will say the words,” I told him. “I shield the colonists of Trellus.”

Malaoan’s expression turned sympathetic. “Under ordinary circumstances, that would be acceptable, Healer, but in this case special considerations for your current mental state must be made.”

I tried not to grit my teeth. “What has my mental state to do with anything?”

“Your medical records indicate that you suffered extensive brain damage and severe emotional trauma while being held captive on Akkabarr,” the legal adviser said. “You persist in referring to yourself as another persona named Jarn. Add to this the ordeal you must have endured on Trellus, and it is apparent that your ability to make rational decisions has bsuch cases, under Jorenian law, the affected individual’s HouseClan is required to intervene and provide consent.”

It took my vocollar a few moments to relate all that to me in the language I could understand. Not that I understood it. “Do you mean to say that I am too crazy to shield the Trellusans?”

“No,” Reever said, his eyes never leaving Xonea’s face. “He is saying you need a member of HouseClan Torin to approve your decision.”

“The Healer’s closest blood kin, to be precise,” Malaoan clarified.

Reever spared him a glance. “My wife is not Jorenian by blood or birth. Her only blood relative is deceased. Under Terran law, as her husband, I am her closest relative.”

“Once my ClanBrother Kao Chose her, Cherijo became Torin,” Xonea said. “After he embraced the stars, my House assured that she would remain our kin by granting her citizenship and formally adopting her.”

I felt bewildered, as I often did when being confronted by actions I had never taken. All of these things had happened to Cherijo Grey Veil, the woman who had inhabited my body before dying on Akkabarr.

“I do not consider myself Terran or Jorenian,” I reminded them. “I was born on Akkabarr, among the skela of the Iisleg. According to their laws, I am the property of my husband and subject to his will alone.”

“You may consider yourself whatever you wish, Healer,” Malaoan said kindly, “but your citizenship has never been revoked by you or your HouseClan. As such, it takes precedence over this claim of Akkabarran citizenship.”

“Very well.” It seemed obvious that they weren’t going to allow me to escape this special consideration. “So who do you define as my closest blood kin?”

“That”—Xonea kept his gaze locked with Reever’s—“would be me.”

If I was not crazy now, I soon would be driven to that unhappy state. “Then, Captain, would you please give me your approval?”

At last he turned toward me. “First you will provide more information so that I may know you are making a wise choice.”

My limited experience in dealing with my adopted Jorenian brother had not been terribly successful. On a previous occasion, when he had tried to prevent me from attending to the victims of a plague that was destroying the Hsktskt homeworld of Vtaga, I had been forced to threaten to take away his command in order to stop his interference.

Now, it seemed, he had the upper hand. My former self had referred to this sort of situation in her journals. She had called it payback time.

I resigned myself to dodging more questions. “What do you wish to know, Captain?”

The big male sat back in his chair, seemingly at ease now. “I want the name of the offworlder who harmed the female patient you operated on just before you and Duncan departed Joren. I want to know why you concealed the fact that the explosive device implanted in her body was mounted with a trigger specifically designed to detonate upon contact with your DNA. I want to know who is trying to assassinate you.”

Xonea didn’t care for my request for time to verify the medical facts behind his last barrage of demands, but I felt sure he wouldn’t accuse me of stalling in front of the other Jorenians. He didn’t. Nor did he protest when I suggested we reconvene the meeting at Houseere he wanted me. I think my husband’s cold, unwavering stare also may have played a part.

Volea and Malaoan, who also sensed the rising tension between Xonea and Reever, quickly agreed to an adjournment, and after making polite farewell gestures, departed. As my ClanBrother left the conference room, he paused for a moment to loom over me.

“If the true reason for this fact-finding delay is to provide time for you and Duncan to leave Joren,” he said, a muscle twitching under his eye, “you will find that you must also obtain my permission for travel offworld.”

“Why would I want to do that?” I made my expression bland. “According to you, I am a mental deficient, and you have seen to it that I will be treated like one. My freedom has been taken away and my decisions will be made for me. Life could not be easier unless I were brain-dead.”

“I will have the name of the one responsible for this, Cherijo,” Xonea promised, glancing once more at Reever before he strode out.

After the door panel had closed and we were alone, my husband put an arm around me, and I allowed myself to lean against his shoulder.

I felt as weary as if I had spent three days fighting in a bloodsports simulator, until I formed a new link with my husband and his strength came flooding through it. How much do you think he knows about what really happened to us on Trellus?

Enough to justify an attack on the colony. Out loud, Reever said, “Marel is waiting for us with Salo, Darea, and Fasala at the pavilion. They arranged for us to have a private meal with them.”

I hated that we could not speak openly and freely, but Reever and I both suspected that the Jorenians were keeping us under constant drone surveillance—on Xonea’s orders, no doubt. “Then why are we standing here?”

After spending all my life on the frozen, wind-torn surface of Akkabarr, then weeks in the crowded, utilitarian envirodomes of an airless rock like Trellus, I could better appreciate the vivid charms of Joren. Above our glidecar, the sky, streaked with a multitude of colors, looked down at its beautiful reflection in the wide, gleaming fields of silvery yiborra grass. Flowering plants, the main staple of the Jorenian diet, grew everywhere, and in more colors than I could name. Nor did I mind the warmth and mild climate, although I suspected I would never feel at home anywhere but on the ice fields.

“It is lovely here,” I said to Reever. “Did Cherijo like it?”

“She did, although we never had the chance to spend very much time on Joren.” Reever maneuvered the vehicle around a slower-moving transport conveying cargo containers and some strange-looking equipment. “Do you remember anything of Terra?”

“I have your memories of North America and France.” I did not wish to insult his natal world, but both regions had seemed sterile, boring, and overpopulated. “We will never return there, will we?”

“No.” He sounded grim. “It would be too dangerous. We . . . Cherijo and I barely escaped with our lives the last time we were on Terra.”

The only blood family my former self could claim, aside from Marel, were the other products of Joseph Grey Veil’s illegal experiments in genetically engineering humans. I knew from her journals that Cherijo believed she had several “brothers” who, like her, had been made in Grey Veil’s laboratory, although something had gone wrong with each of them. One in particulad until Reever set her down on her feet, and then gazed up at me solemnly. “Your pardon, Mama,” she said in Terran. “I know you don’t speak Jorenian.”

“I have no doubt they will force me to learn it someday soon.” I crouched down in front of her and performed a quick visual assessment. My small, delicate daughter didn’t weigh much, but she practically glowed with good health. “You have behaved well for Salo and Darea while we have been gone?” I watched her nod. “You have studied your lessons and attended your teacher’s directions faithfully?” Another nod. “Did you kill anything interesting during your journey?”

“Mama, I told you before, we don’t use animals for . . .” Dimples appeared in her soft, round cheeks. “You know I didn’t kill anything.”

“I thought I should check, just in case.” I touched my brow to hers in Jorenian fashion. “Daddy and I missed you every day.” As her arms encircled my neck, my love for this small, beautiful creature clawed beneath my breastbone, tearing at my heart. I had never known such sweet pain as this, and I would do anything to keep feeling it forever.

It was not possible, I knew. While Reever and I had been physically altered to be virtually immortal, Marel had not. Our child would keep growing and aging until she reached the end of a normal Terran life span, when she would die—unless I did as Reever had asked me to and altered Marel’s body with chameleon cells, which, as they had for her father, would repair any cellular damage she acquired from age, disease, or injury.

I had refused to do it. Immortality had been a curse on my former self; because Cherijo had been created with an immune system that didn’t allow her to become ill or age, she had been experimented on, hunted, imprisoned, tortured, and otherwise abused. As much as I wanted Marel as a part of our lives, I would not deliberately inflict the same fate on my child.

My husband rested one of his scarred hands atop our daughter’s head. It seemed strange that two such unlikely parents had created such a glorious being. I had no memory of her, and before meeting my daughter I had existed in a strange, frozen state that did not allow me to care for anyone. Reever’s childhood, spent on one alien world after another, had deprived him of feeling or showing true human emotion.

Marel and the love she had brought into our lives were slowly righting the terrible wrongs done to us.

“Come,” I said, standing and holding out my hand. “We should not keep Salo and Darea waiting.”

Unfamiliar with the pavilion’s interior, I expected to walk into our friends’ quarters, but instead Marel led me into an enormous area well able to entertain a thousand. It had been decorated with cascading showers of purple, gold, and green flowers; baskets of fruit; and several small trees.

In the center of a web of woven yiborra grass, a single table draped with a densely embroidered cloth stood packed with enough food to keep an Iisleg hunter and his family fed for an entire season. Salo and Darea were at a prep unit, filling servers with hot, fragrant tea, and their daughter had just set down yet another platter of golden, intricately shaped breads.

“Is the rest of the HouseClan joining us?” I asked Marel as I admired the bounty.

She grinned up at me. “They wanted to. Everyone is happy that you’re home, Mama.”

The three Torins gree experime ClanMother. From her ClanFather she had inherited a calm, thoughtful demeanor that often made her seem older than she was. Only when she grinned and chatted with our daughter during the meal did I remember that she was barely halfway through adolescence.

“Fasala was Marel’s size when we first met Cherijo,” Darea said as she, too, watched the girls. “Soon she will be a woman, walking her own path. During our journey she told us that she wishes to go to Omorr to study planetary engineering. She wants to someday help build new worlds for those who have lost theirs.”

World building had become a critical industry since the war between the Hsktskt and the Allied League of Worlds. Both sides had decimated and destroyed hundreds of planets during their battles; thousands of species had been displaced as homeless refugees.

“That is a noble and useful ambition,” I said. “Just before we left Trellus, the colonists gave us an Aksellan planetary mining map. It is handmade and very old. Perhaps Fasala would like to see a scan of it? I can transmit a copy to your quarters.”

“That would be of great interest to her. She spends most of her time studying maps and star charts.” Darea’s mouth tightened before she took a sip from her server of tea.

I knew that look. I saw it on my own face whenever Marel did something to worry me. “You are not entirely happy with Fasala’s plans.”

“In truth, I cannot bear to think of her so far away from us,” the Jorenian woman admitted. “If something were to happen to her while she is studying on Omorr, it would take weeks for us to reach her.”

I would have pointed out that the Omorr were an honorable species, and especially protective of children, but I knew she didn’t distrust them. “When Reever and I left Marel with you, I could not relax. Even as I know you and Salo regard her as if she were Fasala’s sibling, the little one is my child. My head knows that she was safe with you, but my heart still believes that no one can protect her as well as I.”

“Yes. That is exactly what I feel.” Darea set down her server with a small thump. “We create these children in honor, and bring them into our world so that we may fulfill our Choice. Then but a few, paltry revolutions later, we must allow them to leave us and walk their own path.” Her jaw set. “How did our ClanMothers manage to do it?”

“I cannot say.” I did not have to remind her that neither I nor my former self had been born to a living woman, for she immediately remembered and made an apologetic gesture. “No, Darea, I am not offended. I was never a child except in my mind. Our headwoman, Daneeb, would tell the new skela who were cast out of the iiskar and came to us to live in the now rather than memory or hope. That to dwell on what was, or what may be, diminishes our appreciation for what is.”

The tight lines around Darea’s mouth eased, and her expression turned thoughtful. “She was right. All we truly ever have is what is.”

Neither Reever nor I were particularly hungry, not after the troubling reception we’d been given at Main Transport. Still, I tried to eat as much as possible. On my homeworld, to waste food was unthinkable. I was gratified to see that the Torins, with their enormous Jorenian appetites, made short work of the feast.

Darea spoke only of their journey until the two girls excused themselves to attend to feeding the small cats, Jenner, Juliet, and th.” Hrow some of her fierceness for what lay ahead.

“Who sits at the feet of Shanea Torin?” a deep voice said. A tall, older male with a full head of purple hair stopped before my bench. He wore the colors of the Torin with a length of woven silver cloth draped from his right shoulder to his left hip, an indication of his rank. Attached to his belt was a cylinder I recognized as a scroll case, in which important handwritten documents were carried.

He smiled down at me with genuine pleasure. “Ah, it is my favorite healer. Welcome home, ClanDaughter.”

“I thank you, ClanLeader Torin.” I rose and tried to make a formal gesture of respectful greeting, but found myself in his affectionate embrace. I returned it, gingerly, before stepping back. “I was just preparing to leave for the medical facility.”

“Please an old man and speak with me first.” He gestured toward the bench.

I sat, feeling uneasy. As well as being the Torin ClanLeader, Xonal Torin was Xonea’s sire. I had met him only a few times, but I knew from Reever’s memories that Xonal and Cherijo had been very close. Talking with him might be as hazardous as crossing a dripping snow bridge.

“We have not had the chance to speak privately since you were returned to us,” he said, studying my face. “Darea explained to me about what happened to Cherijo on Akkabarr. I understand that you are a different person, one named Jarn. May I use that name for you?”

“Of course.” It pained me to hear him ask permission for such a thing. On my homeworld, Xonal Torin would be a rasakt, the leader of the tribe. An Iisleg rasakt would not lower himself to acknowledge my existence, except to issue an order to kill me or drive me from his iiskar. “I do remember you, ClanLeader. My husband was able to transfer his memories of Cherijo’s life to me.”

“Then you will remember when the League attacked Joren,” he said. “Cherijo surrendered to them in order to prevent an invasion of our world.”

They always made her sound so noble. “That was part of her bargain with OverLord TssVar, to give the Hsktskt access to the League ships so that they could take them over and turn their crews into slaves. In truth, she surrendered herself and eight hundred other unsuspecting beings.”

The side of his mouth curled. “Darea mentioned to me that you do not much care for the woman you were.”

“I never knew her. I was born the day she died on the ice.” I met his white-within-white gaze. “My people, the Iisleg, believe in speaking plainly. The truth is that Cherijo did many things that I cannot condone, and I do not always care to be associated with decisions I would never have made. But if what I have said about her offends you, I ask your pardon. I know how much your people honored her.”

“Do not trouble yourself, Jarn.” He touched my arm in a reassuring manner. “I speak of Cherijo now only so that I might explain why my ClanSon, Xonea, is so determined to keep and exercise authority over you.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “He thinks I will invite the Hsktskt here again?”

“He blames himself for not protecting Cherijo when the League attacked. He swore to his ClanBrother, Kao, that he would never allow her to be captured or taken from us.” Xonal released a heavy sigh as his hands moved like snow drifting down from a still night sky. “Your bondmate was not the only one who suffered when you—when Cherijo disappeared. Xonea greatly honored her. If not for her bond with Duncan, I think he would have Choswidth="1em">“The scroll contains the full text of a ruling from the days before the HouseClans united,” he said, smiling at me. “It concerns the rights of an injured Torin warrior who was saved by a Varena healer.”

After leaving Marel at the Jorenian day school she now attended with Fasala and the other Torin children, Reever and I went to the HouseClan’s main medical facility. I looked back several times, wondering how quickly I might resolve the conflict with Xonea and return.

“Stop worrying about her,” my husband said as he drove away. “Marel has many friends at school, and she enjoys her lessons. All of the instructors are Torin, so if anyone threatens her—”

“Her teacher will eviscerate them with her bare hands, I know.” I gave him an exasperated look. “My concern is not about her safety.”

“Then what is?”

I couldn’t say that every time I looked upon our child, I wondered if it might be the last. “Do you think this bounty being offered for us is another trick by your friend to lure us away from Joren?”

“No. While you were gone this morning, I signaled some contacts I have.” Reever’s tone grew grim. “It would seem that my friend has taken his tricks and left the quadrant.”

“Then what he told us is true. There is someone else hunting us.”

My husband nodded. “So it would seem. Whoever is offering the bounty has taken extraordinary measures to protect their identity; the Thekka used to send that transmission was found dead shortly afterward.”

“Dead?” I was astonished. “Murdered?”

“No, he was found to have died of natural causes,” Reever said. “That is all my contacts have been able to discover.”

The lack of information frustrated me. Also, the death of the Thekka sounded suspicious; as a doctor I knew of a hundred different ways to kill someone and conceal the fact that they were murdered. A doctor. “Could it be Cherijo’s creator who searches for us?”

“No. Cherijo and I both saw Joseph Grey Veil die on Terra.” He hesitated, then added, “Jarn, if we remain on Joren, mercenaries will come for us. It is possible that they will even join forces and attempt an invasion.”

The thought of Joren being attacked—and the HouseClans’ inevitable response—made me feel sick. “How can you know that?”

He glanced at me. “It is what I did to take Cherijo from the League.”

All of his memories of that time came rushing back into my head, making it ache slightly. “Then perhaps we had better make some travel arrangements, before you are forced to do the same for me.”

Reever stopped the glidecar outside the main entrance to the medical facility. When I moved to climb out, he stopped me. “If we do not give Xonea what he wants, he will find a lawful reason to attack Trellus. I know you’re sympathetic, but we cannot sacrifice all those innocent people merely to protect the one responsible from your ClanBrother’s vengeance.”

“If it becomes a choice between him and the colonists, I will tell Xonea everything he wants to know,” I promised him. “But I think I can put a stop to all of this today.”

Just inside the entrance, the Torin’s Senior Healer, a tall, dark-eyed Omorr male in a modifwas fas they should have been. “You have him scheduled for an exploratory tomorrow?”

Squilyp nodded absently as he adjusted the patient’s monitor leads. “I may have missed something during surgery.”

I had operated alongside the Omorr often enough to know that he never missed anything. His meticulous methods and habits were perfection; he also had a peculiar, natural aptitude for sensing and finding potential troubles during procedures that weren’t readily apparent. The cause of the patient’s poor condition had to be from another source.

I regarded the Jorenian male, who was awake, although his eyes seemed unfocused. “Good morning, Palalo Torin. My name is Healer Jarn, and I must talk to you about your accident. I know your throat has not healed enough yet for you to speak, so I will ask questions that require only a gesture of yes or no as an answer. Can you do this for me?”

With his left hand he made a modified affirmative gesture.

“I thank you.” I paged through his chart to the initial intake report. “You were unloading containers of agricultural equipment when the platform failed, is this correct?”

He repeated the affirmative.

“Did the containers break open after they fell?” Palalo made a negative gesture. “Did they leak fuel or liquids?” Another no, but this time not as definite. “Did anything come out of the containers that fell on you?” He hesitated, and then turned his hand over and spread his fingers in a gesture I did not recognize.

“He is not certain,” Squilyp said. “He lost consciousness during the platform failure, and short-term memory loss associated with head trauma is not uncommon among Jorenians.”

I took the Omorr’s scanner and modified the settings before I passed it over the patient’s chest. The resulting readings indicated elevated levels of nitrogen. I had to increase the depth of the scan twice more before the device would identify the source: trace amounts of fungi, now lodged deep inside small ruptures in the patient’s lung tissue, which had become inflamed and closed over.

“You need not operate,” I said to Squilyp, and handed him the scanner. “Fungus has infected his lungs, but we can clear them with a change in his medication.”

“He aspirated mold?”The Omorr consulted the chart. “There was no trace of this in his blood work.”

“There wouldn’t be,” I said as I wrote up orders for the new meds and a deep-tissue breathing treatment. “This is a hybrid fungus, created specifically to prepare soil for cultivation. It breaks down old plant matter and other solids while releasing nitrogen into the soil as a by-product.”

Palalo’s eyes widened, and he made a strong affirmative gesture.

“We should have detected trace amounts in his blood work,” Squilyp said.

I shook my head. “Irrigation or immersion in liquid neutralizes and disperses the fungus; exposure to Palalo’s bloodstream would have rendered it untraceable.”

The Omorr gave me an odd look. “How did it get so deep into his lung tissue?”

“It was also designed to plant itself.” I called over a charge nurse to review the changes in the patient’s treatment before I moved to the next bed. Squilyp, however a new diagnostic tool?”

He seemed to choose his words carefully before he replied. “You used mold like the one infecting Palalo’s lungs to treat the soil on Akkabarr?”

“There is no surface soil on my homeworld, only ice. The Iisleg do not farm; they hunt.” I skimmed through the next patient’s chart and noted that the back injury the patient had sustained had responded well to corrective spinal therapy.

“How did you know what the mold was without checking the medical database?” Squilyp persisted.

“I treated several cases of the same type of infection on K-2. It’s a common complaint among agri workers. They call it planting lung.” I turned to the patient, who was sitting up with an expectant look on her pretty face. “Good morning, Tabrea Torin. You appear to be ready for discharge.”

The big female smiled. “That I am, Healer.”

“Tabrea, your pardon,” the Senior Healer said unexpectedly. “I must consult for a moment in private with Healer Torin.” Squilyp took hold of my arm and guided me away from the berth until we were out of hearing range. “Jarn, are you certain that you treated patients for the same type of mold infection that Palalo has?”

“Of course I am.” His apparent disbelief puzzled me. “The mold is a universal soil treatment used on hundreds of worlds. I’ve seen the same type of infection in the ER dozens of times.”

“Tell me the names of these patients.”

“Their names?” Impatient now, I planted my hands on my hips. “Squilyp, why are you making such a big deal about this? If you don’t agree with my diagnosis—”

The Omorr interrupted me with a curt gesture. “You can’t remember their names, can you?”

I thought for a moment. “No. I can’t. Should I declare myself unfit now, before someone files a grievance against me?”

“You can’t remember their names because you’ve never treated any patients with this mold infection,” the Omorr said. “You’ve never been to K-2, Jarn.”

I opv width="1em">“The brain dem">“Something like that,” Reever agreed.

Squilyp hopped over to the patient’s berth. “Would you excuse us, lady?” When she made a small, tight, affirmative gesture, the Senior Healer led us into the adjoining treatment room and closed the door panel.“There is something I have to tell you before this goes any further.”

“You are not allowing Xonea to question my patient,” I told him.

“Of course I wouldn’t,” he snapped. “It wouldn’t do any good if he did.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “What is it?”

“In light of the patient’s amnesia, I ordered a full neurological workup,” Squilyp said. “Whoever planted the grenade in her body also injected her with a drug we have still not identified. Here are her latest brain scans and the neurologist’s prognosis.” He handed me a datapad.

Reever also looked at the data and read the report summary before he looked at Squilyp. “Have you told her?”

“Yes, after I consulted with several other neurologists,” the Omorr said, and saw my scowl. “Jarn, she deserved to know the truth.”

“The truth might have waited until her body healed.” I had not had time to perform a proper visual assessment, or I would have checked her neck for her Clan Symbol, a small black birthmark that in normal Jorenians indicated genetic lineage. “Her Clan Symbol remains indistinct?”

“Yes. We have sent out signals to all of the HouseClans, along with a detailed physical description and images of her features, but none have claimed her.” Squilyp hesitated before adding, “Her DNA does not match any known HouseClan profile.”

“Run the tests again,” I said, “because that isn’t possible.”

“Were she born on Joren, I would agree with you.” The Omorr’s gildrells undulated with agitation. “She has the physical appearance of an adult Jorenian female, but there are some cellular anomalies in her tissues and fluids that are not inherent to the species.”

“She may have been alterformed specifically to infiltrate Joren,” Reever suggested.

The Omorr shook his head. “There are always signs on the cellular level of genetic tampering: strand splicing, chromosome deformation, and the like. I did not detect any of them. Once I could not match her DNA profile to any HouseClan, I thought she might be the product of forced breeding by a slaver.”

“No freeborn Jorenian would reproduce in captivity,” Reever said.“They do not tolerate enslavement. Like the Hsktskt, they commit suicide at the first opportunity.”

I recalled Marel’s pictures of Kol and Jory. “Not all. The members of HouseClan Kalea are the children of enslaved Jorenian females who were force-bred by their owners. Perhaps something like that happened to her Jorenian parent.”

“Whatever her origins, this female is in many ways like a newborn infant—much like you were, Jarn, when you first came to consciousness on Akkabarr,” Squilyp tagged on. “Xonea can question her all he likes, but she will be unable to provide him answers. We believe the drug administered to her effectively destroyed her memory center.”

“Are all forms of amnesia considered mental defects on this woit for consultation purposes.” I gestured toward my husband. “Duncan will read it out loud to you, if you like.”

“I know the law, and it grants only a temporary reprieve.” Xonea spat the words as he would a curse. “I can wait until she recovers.”

“Then you will spend a lifetime waiting, Captain,” I said. “The lady will never recover completely from all of her injuries.”

“Drug-induced brain damage has caused her permanent memory loss.” Squilyp handed him the datapad with the neurologist’s report. “Read for yourself.”

Silence fell over the room, growing thick and uncomfortable as Xonea skimmed through the data. The datapad went flying across the patient’s room, smashing into the wall and dropping in pieces on the floor. The patient’s eyes widened, and she yanked her linens up over her head. Squilyp went to the wall panel and signaled security.

Reever, his face blank and his eyes so dark they looked black, took a step toward Xonea.

I put a hand on my husband’s arm. “No.” I watched my ClanBrother’s face. “Wait.”

Xonea regarded me as he spoke to his men. “We are finished here. Return to your stations.”

I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. “Xonea, I know you were only trying to do what you thought was best. But your efforts on my behalf are not necessary.”

“Your behalf?” His tone may have been soft, but a lethal rage filled his eyes. “I have done nothing for you.”

I gestured from the patient to the shattered datapad. “Then why all this?”

“Your neurologist is wrong, Omorr. Nothing lost is gone forever.” Xonea looked down his nose at me. “You think because I do not use your name that I do not know who you are? I know. You are not Cherijo. You may have her skills, her voice, even her bondmate and child, but you can never be Cherijo.”

“No.” My spine turned to ice. “I can’t.”

He leaned down, his voice going soft. “Do not become too comfortable in that skin, Akkabarran. Someday my ClanSister will return to us, and when she does”—he looked from my head to my footgear and back again—“she will take back all that you have stolen from Xonea or his ugly behavior as we went to the HouseClan pavilion to return the scroll to Xonal, but I sensed his concern hovering between us, silent and watchful.

I stopped in the courtyard and turned to him. “Stop it.”

His eyebrows rose. “Stop what?”

“You are watching me out of the corner of your eye, waiting for me to have some sort of hysterical female reaction,” I told him. “I was an Iisleg woman. A skela. I have been despised for simply breathing. I have been shot, beaten, starved, and left for dead. I have walked the ice fields and dragged the dying from them as Toskald ordnance exploded all around me. Believe me when I say that some harsh words thrown at me by one angry man will not make me collapse.”

“I would, but I have this one problem.” He tucked the scroll case under the belt of his tunic and then framed my face with his scarred hands. “I love you.”

“Well.” I rested my hands against his chest. Once I believed that he had loved only my body, as it was all he had left of his dead wife. Now I knew better. “I suppose I could tolerate it a little longer,” I said gruffly.

“Xonea does not know you,” Reever continued, stroking the curves of my cheeks with his thumbs before taking his hands away. “He looks at you, but he sees Cherijo.”

I recalled the set of the Jorenian’s face, and the savageness in his voice as he lashed out at me. You can never be Cherijo. “Evidently, he did not see her today.”

“Jarn, Duncan.” Darea entered the courtyard and crossed it to join us. She also carried a cylindrical case, but this one had been fashioned of clear plas and held other, marked rolls of plas inside. “Do you have a moment? My ClanDaughter discovered something quite interesting about the scan you sent us.”

We went to a table and sat down together. Darea removed several rolled sheets of marked plas from her case and spread out one of them onto the surface of the table.

“Fasala studied the copy of the original map, but she was not able to decipher some of the Aksellan symbols,” Darea said. “Over the centuries, Joren has collected an extensive star chart library, with records from all known space-traveling species. I scanned the map’s symbols and input them for comparison, but they are not recorded in our database.”

“The Trellusan who gave us the map claimed it was very old,” I told her. “Perhaps they predate your records.”

“We believe the same—and there is more. As Fasala could not use the symbols, she filtered the scanned image to show only the star systems and the Aksellan’s marked travel routes. Here is what the map looks like without the symbols.” Darea pointed to circles and lines on the transparency. “Salo has traveled through some of this region, so he was the first to notice the mistakes in the route patterns.”

I knew little of star charts, but Reever had extensive pilot training and had traveled a great deal on his own. “What is wrong with them?”

Reever frowned as he leaned over to inspect the plas. “The lanes are too long and convoluted.”

Darea smiled at him. “My bondmate was not so diplomatic; he called them utterly ridiculous. He said no ship’s captain would waste the time or resources by following such courses over more direct routes. But to be certain, we checked each course on the map against the trade routes presently being used in those systems. The lanes the Aksellans marked on this map are thr>

“Perhaps it was for trade purposes,” I suggested. “They may have diverted their ships to worlds in need of the ore they mined.”

“These routes took the ships away from the most populated planetary systems,” my husband murmured as he studied the transparency. “The Aksellans were diverting their ships away from these worlds. It may have been to protect from raiders the ore they were transporting.”

Darea nodded. “I, too, thought they may have taken the routes as a security tactic, until Salo began checking the symbols I had removed.” Darea unrolled another sheet of plas and placed it over the transparency of the planets and shipping routes. “The systems they avoided had two things in common: inhabited worlds, and a dark triangle marking all of them. But we do not know what that symbol means.”

“We do.” Troubled now, I met my husband’s gaze over the map. “The miners were avoiding worlds with deposits of black crystal.”

My former self had encountered the black crystal several times in her past. She had found it to be the cause of diseases on Catopsa, Taercal, and Oenrall. I, too, had witnessed its effects on Trellus, when it mesmerized Reever. But we knew that nearly all of the worlds presently infected with the mineral were not even aware of its existence, or how it might be affecting their population. “How could they have known it was there so long ago?”

“The Aksellans have always been a highly intelligent species, but I do not believe these map makers knew of the crystal,” Xonal said, startling me as he appeared at my side and leaned over to inspect the transparency. “According to legend, they were far more reserved than their modern descendents. They avoided other sentient species, and mined only unclaimed comets, asteroids, and meteor fields.” When we all looked at him, he moved his hands in an easy gesture. “As a youth I was as interested in geology as well as exploring space. I spent two years serving as chief navigator on an Aksellan ore hauler.”

Reever straightened. “You think that they avoided these worlds because they were inhabited, not because they have deposits of black crystal.”

“This symbol here.” Xonal traced one of the dark triangles. “It is a greatly simplified form of two modern Aksellan glyphs. One represents the number three, the other means ‘outsider.’ Used together, they translate to threat.”

That made more sense, until I considered another interpretation. The black crystal affected only living, sentient beings. If it was as lethal as my surrogate mother had promised, it might infect worlds only where it could find some prey. “Are there any inhabited worlds on the map that are not marked with the dark triangle?”

Reever consulted the transparency. “Yes. Joren, Akkabarr, and oKia, in the Saraced system.” He pointed to each planet.

Joren was on one end of the map, Akkabarr in the center, and oKia on the opposite. “Is it possible that at the time this map was made, the black crystal had not yet reached these three worlds?”

“The mother’s cloak has always protected our planet,” Xonal said. At my surprised look, he added, “Her cloak is a thick layer of volatile gases in the upper atmosphere. Free-falling minerals cause them to ignite, so that nothing smaller than a large asteroid could pass unprotected through the layer successfully.”

“Akkabarr’s kvinka—the storm currents enveloping the planet—do the same for the Iisleg,” I said. “What of oKia?”

“I cannot say if they have escaped the black j bcrystal, but it seems unlikely,” the ClanLeader told me. “It is an ordinary, cold-climate world with no unusual atmospheric conditions. The dominant species, the oKiaf, are sentient tribal hunters, much like our ancestors were.”

“Are they primitive?” If they were, that would present different problems.

“Not since the turn of the century,” Reever said. “The League recruited oKia to join them by offering advanced technology in exchange for the service of their trackers in the military. oKiaf were said to be the best troop marshals in the quadrant.”

I used my datapad to access Joren’s planetary database, but it listed only a scant amount of statistics on its solar system and planetary surface conditions. “There is hardly any information recorded about this world.”

“Few sojourn to oKia or any of the planets within the Saraced system,” Darea admitted. “That region of space is too remote and sparsely populated to tempt many traders, and too ordinary to lure our explorers. After Skart was destroyed during the war, many have avoided it.”

“oKia recently resigned from the League, canceled the contracts of all their people serving in the military, and recalled them to the homeworld,” Reever said. “They also banned all contact with offworlders.”

“They follow Joren’s path.” Darea exchanged a wry look with Xonal before she added, “They are not the first to break with the League since the war, Duncan. After Raktar Teulon revealed the truth about the Jado Massacre, and how the League’s finest officers were responsible for causing it, many worlds have chosen to do the same.”

“I would agree with your theory,” my husband said, “but they have banned contact with all other beings, not merely the League. No member of any species is permitted to travel through their space.”

“During the war, the Hsktskt destroyed Skart, one of the neighboring worlds in oKia’s solar system,” Darea said. “That may have decided everything for the oKiaf.”

“If their planet still remains free of the black crystal, we must find the reason for it.” A sojourn to the Saraced system might also keep the mercenaries hunting us from invading Joren, and give Reever time to discover who was offering the bounty for us and why. “We should go to oKia and survey it, even if we must do so from orbit.”

“The oKiaf will have something to say about that, I think,” Xonal said. “As will Xonea.”

My ClanBrother’s desire to keep me on Joren was going to be a problem. “We can’t fly a scout to the opposite side of the galaxy. We will need a vessel capable of interstellar flight.” I regarded the ClanLeader. “Perhaps you could persuade Captain Torin to permit us to use the Sunlace as transport for the expedition.”

“I believe that can be easily arranged.” He smiled, made an affectionate gesture and left us.

Darea gave me a shrewd look. “I think you are not so interested in traveling to oKia as you are in leaving Joren.”

“I do wish to know if the oKiaf have something that has prevented the black crystal from infecting their world,” I said. “Whatever has spared them could prove invaluable to removing the crystal from other worlds it has already infected.”

“But afar flighbetter justice is there than choosing him to be the one who must transport me off the planet?”

After our experience with Alek Davidov forcing us to crash-land on Trellus, and now this new bounty being offered for our capture, I knew we would once more have to leave our daughter behind on Joren. The League still did not know of her existence, and for her sake, we intended to keep it that way. Yet the thought of being separated from Marel again, so soon after our reunion, made slow, sharp daggers of guilt stab into me.

“A proper mother does not abandon her child,” I muttered as Reever and I cleared the servers from our evening meal interval. I glanced over at the cleansing unit, where our daughter was merrily playing in her bath. “Especially a girl child she barely knows. Yet no matter how I try, this is all I seem to do to the girl.”

“Would you rather stay behind with her?” my husband asked as he rinsed the plates. “I can sojourn to oKia alone.”

“The last time we were separated, I died, and you nearly cracked up,” I reminded him. “I think you and I had better stick to one another . . . like . . .” I stopped as I realized what I had been saying. “Glue.”

“Jarn?”

I grabbed a handful of his tunic and twisted my hand in it as I fought back the anger and fear. “What is that word?” I said through clenched teeth. “What is glue?”

“An adhesive form of plas, used to hold separate things together, or repair them when they split or break apart.” He covered the fist I had wound in his tunic with a gentle hand. “Think, Wife. You must have had something like glue on Akkabarr.”

I backed away from him and went to the cleanser, breathing in deeply. As I picked up a server, I scrabbled through the words whirling in my head.

He came up behind me. “Jarn, you need not—”

“Yes,” I said, almost shouting. Quickly, I lowered my voice. “Yes, we did have something. Joining paste. Boil ptar claws for three days and let the liquid cool. We use it to fix our sleds. We did.”

“It’s growing worse, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

“No. I am well.” The server in my hand cracked, and the sonic jet turned pink. “Ignore that.”

Reever took hold of my wrist and turned it to see the gash across my palm. The bleeding stopped a moment later and the wound seemed to shrivel in on itself.

His eyes gazed into mine. “You are healing much faster than Cherijo could.”

“Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker,” I muttered under my breath. I watched the stream from the cleansing unit turn clear again. “I don’t know what those words mean, either, Duncan.”

“It is only a joke I told once,” he assured me.

“You lie.” I knew his memories, and those words were not his. “You never tell jokes.”

The words—the joke—had comeacked awato weep. I wanted to strike the man I loved in the face.

“Mama?” Marel called from the tub cleanser. “Why did you shout at Daddy?”

“I am telling him a joke.” I carefully picked up the pieces of the broken server and put them into the disposal unit. Without looking at Reever, I went over to help our daughter out of the tub. “Duncan, how quickly can you teach me StanTerran?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “The Terran you speak is very old and corrupted by Toskald. A purer form may confuse you. Jarn, what happened just now—”

I rubbed a drying linen over Marel’s damp curls. “It was nothing,” I lied. “As Squilyp says, a momentary thought disorder. But I would know the meaning of all the words that come out of my mouth.”

“I can teach you Terran, Mama,” my daughter said as she pulled on her night garments. “I have all the language files on my datapad. We can read together every night and in the mornings before I go to school.”

“It will have to wait for now.”This was the perfect time to tell her about the expedition, but instead I crouched down and took her into my arms. “Daddy must tell us a sleeping-time story.”

We did not hurry through our evening rituals, and by the time Reever finished telling a strange but stirring tale about a young shepherd who had used his wits to slay an armored giant, Marel had fallen asleep in my arms. I breathed in the soft, sweet scent of her as I covered her with her bed linens. I wanted to lie on the floor and sleep beside her, but I made myself turn down the emitters before I walked out of her room.

Long fingers laced through mine, tugging me back against my husband’s chest. Candy is a sweet-tasting treat favored by Terran children. There is no word in Iisleg for it because your people do not have the means to make treats or sugars. Liquor is a liquid once made of fermented botanicals. The alcohol produced by the fermentation made it an effective intoxicant. It is synthesized now. I did spend four years in a boarding school on Terra. I must have heard the words during that time.

My shoulders stiffened. Your lies are not going to make this any better. They were her words, not yours, and I remembered them.

Very well. We will talk about something else. Or do something else. He kissed the tip of my nose. “Do you have any suggestions?”

I could not dismiss it so easily; I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.

“I need air,” I told him, pulling away and crossing the room to the courtyard access panel. “I’m going for a walk.” When he began to follow me, I turned and held up one hand. “By myself. Please.”

He studied my face. “As you like.”

The nights on Joren were cool and dry, causing the indigenous flora to close their blossoms during the darkness. That cleared some of their perfume from the air and made it seem less alien to my nose. As I walked the pathways through the courtyard, I still felt trapped.

I did not belong here, on this world, in this pavilion, inside this body. She had been born to do all of these things, not me. Xonea was right in that sense. I had not meant to, but I had stolen everything from Cherijo: my body, my husband, my child, my life. None of them belonged to me.

Was Cherijo still somewhere inside my mindem">I kept him a prisoner of my body, and rode him that way until his fingers dug into my hips and his eyes became as intent and blue as a jlorra’s.

“Jarn.” His muscles shook, so eager to spill himself inside me, yet somehow he held back. “I will not go over. Not without you.”

The thing inside me shattered as I rolled, and the single thrust of his body into mine brought us both to the very brink. Duncan kept his eyes open as he lowered his mouth to mine in a kiss so soft and tender that I lost myself to it. Then the pleasure brought me back, into his heat and his eyes and the blessed release we found together.

We lay in the grass as the wind cooled our skins and the glowing dancers rose all around us and drifted away. I listened to the frantic pounding of Duncan’s heart gradually slow to a smooth, comforting pulse against my cheek.

“Do you think she would hate us?” I heard myself ask. “For what we have together?”

The hand stroking my back paused, then resumed its soothing motion. “Cherijo hated many things. Ignorance, incompetence. Bigotry, slavery, and war. She hated them with all of her heart.” He pulled me closer. “But not love. Never love.”

Four

We went back to our quarters and I slept in Duncan’s arms, better than I had in weeks.The next morning I sent my husband off to take Marel to school, and went to meet Squilyp at his private lab. We’d arranged it the day before, officially to discuss the results of the tests he had performed on Reever’s most recent tissue and blood samples.

Unofficially, we needed to talk about a lot of things.

“Wait, there is something on you.” Squilyp stopped me just outside the lab and used a gildrell to pluck something from my hair. He showed me a fragment of yiborra grass. “Have you been rolling in the grass, Doctor?”

“Only once or twice. Reever and I were too busy doing other things.” I took the bit of grass and tucked it into my tunic pocket. “Speaking of mates, have you signaled Garphawayn lately?”

“I signal my mate each night, thank you. If I did not, she promised to separate my head from my shoulders when she and our sons return to Joren.” He keyed in the access code to the lab, which ze="5">

“My family acknowledges the honor of the position. Her family”—he rolled his dark eyes—“is displeased by our decision to raise the twins away from Omorr, but I think they will come to accept it. Thus far they have made only the token arguments.”

I went to examine an interesting-looking experiment in progress. “They’re more afraid of her than you.”

“Everyone is,” he agreed. “Don’t open that.”

I studied the contents of the culture dishes. “What is it?”

“My latest batch of epithelial scaffolding cells.” Squilyp hopped over and peered into the culture incubator I was inspecting. “As I suspected. They’re not bonding with Reever’s tissue samples. I’m afraid that so far, nothing has.”

“If the chameleons don’t bond with host cells, then how can they repair and replace damaged organs?”

“When I discern that,” the Omorr said, “I will be the wealthiest surgeon in the galaxy.” He saw my expression and sniffed. “Cherijo was never so gullible as you. The reason I commissioned this lab was to protect my research. No one can know about Duncan’s condition, Jarn. If I can discover how to implant chameleon cells in another host body, they could be used by less virtuous researchers to create virtually indestructible armies.”

We went over the test results, which had yielded little new information. Squilyp had performed a comprehensive series of scans on the chameleon cells I had harvested from Reever’s kidneys and liver, but they did not respond or behave like any other form of human cell.

“My best guess is that in an environment outside the body, the cells become dormant,” Squilyp said. “They may have been engineered to do so to prevent unnecessary growth or accidental transfer. They are not fooled by implantation into simulated bodies, either.”

“You can’t experiment with them on living beings.” I gnawed at my bottom lip. “Have you tried organic stimulants?”

He nodded. “Organic, recombinant, and synthesized. The results are the same. No reaction; no growth. Scans show the cells are alive, but inert.”

That reminded me. “I have some other samples to give you for testing.” I put my medical case on one of the worktables and opened it, removing several vials of blood and cellular samples I had prepared. “These are from my body. While we are gone on this expedition, I would like you to perform some specific tests on them, as well as my husband’s.”

“Of course.” He transferred the samples to a refrigerated case. “What do you want me to check?”

“I want to know how to reverse the bioengineering that Joseph Grey Veil performed on us,” I said. “In my case, I need a treatment to repair the tampering performed on my DNA in utero, and in Duncan’s, a process that will safely remove all of the chameleon cells from his body.”

“What?” Squilyp stopped fiddling with the incubator’s controls and stared at me. “Why?”

“If we can somehow undo Joseph’s genetic tampering, Reever and I would be able to live normal life spans,” I explained. “We could have more children, grow older, and die a natural death.”

For a long moment, the Omorr said nothing. Then he turned his back on me. “No. I won’t do it.”

I had not counted on his resistance to the imorr do not believe in a next life.” He rubbed his eyes, and then saw my face. “No, Jarn. I could not bear the burden of it.”

“Then please, old friend, help us.” I sat down in front of the desk. “Find a way to reverse what was done to us.” I reached across and took one of his membranes in my hand. “Give us a chance at life. Ordinary life. One we can live in peace.”

“I will try.” Squilyp gripped my fingers for a moment, and then rose. “Come. I want you to meet one of my new residents.”

I had a great many tasks to attend to in order to prepare for the expedition, including telling my daughter about it. “Perhaps another time. I have much to do.”

“You’ll want to meet Jylyj,” the Omorr assured me. “Xonal told me about this expedition you’re planning, and I think this resident could be very useful. Aside from the fact that Jylyj is a gifted surgeon, he is also Skartesh.”

I frowned. “I was told that world had been destroyed during the war.”

Squilyp hopped out into the corridor. “It was, but many of the Skartesh escaped before the end.” He waited until I came through, and then secured the access panel. “The survivors have recently established a new colony on one of K-2’s moons.”

I recalled what Reever had said about the Skartesh being isolationists. “Why is this Jylyj not in residency there?”

“According to his transfer papers, he left K-2 soon after the Skartesh were tricked into attempting a mass suicide. He does not speak of his people at all, so I imagine it had something to do with that.” Squilyp shrugged. “Whatever Jylyj’s origins, he’s the finest resident I’ve ever trained. Brilliant in and out of the surgical suite. I’ve been assigning him the most challenging cases on the ward, and he’s yet to lose a patient. As it happens, he has a reputation of having a magic touch. All the patients he treats have healed quickly, and with no complications.”

I accompanied Squilyp to the surgical ward, where the nurses were preparing for rounds. I had no difficulty spotting the Skartesh, as he was the only non-Jorenian on the floor.

While Squilyp conferred briefly with the charge nurse, I watched Jylyj assessing a post-op case. He wore a green resident’s tunic, fitting for a four-limbed humanoid male. I had not yet grown accustomed to seeing furred species, so at first glance the dark brown pelt covering his body and face made him seem more like an animal than a person.

After my initial, unfavorable reaction, I saw reassuring signs that my first impression was in error. The dense black ruff of fur surrounding Jylyj’s features had been trimmed short, as had the five curved black claws on his paws. His eye, as solid black as the Jorenians were white, made me wonder for a moment if he were a crossbreed. ClanLeader Sajora Kalea, a crossbreed Jorenian, had possessed solid green eyes. The resident’s ear flaps stood straight up on either side of his head, and small circles of some amber alloy hung from the right flap.

Animals, I knew, did not adorn themselves.

The black coloration of Jylyj’s slanted eyelids, pointed nose, and lining of his long, narrowed-jawed mouth gave him a menacing look, as did the heavy musculature of his frame under the fur. At the same time, he moved carefully, and the low tone of his voice as he spoke to the Jorenian patient sounded warm a1em">“Why?” Puzzled now, I regarded him. When he did not reply, I said, “Resident, I may appear Terran, but I was born on a world where males subjugate females. They do not offer apologies to them. Why should you?”

“Wherever your homeworld, you are not a Skartesh female.” He forced himself to meet my gaze. “It was rude to treat you as such. I am sorry.”

I felt as uncomfortable as he did now. “Apology accepted.”

He wasn’t finished. “My beliefs require me to make amends. If you are still willing to have me serve on the crew, I will join your expedition.”

Astonishment left me mute until I realized he was waiting for a response. “That seems a great deal of trouble to go to when you have already apologized.”

“We Skartesh have very specific codes of behavior,” he explained. “The only alternative to granting your request would be to prostrate myself in ritual contrition. It involves providing a period of personal servitude, fasting for several days, and shaving off all of my mane.”

The mental image his confession provoked made me press my lips together. “That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”

“Proper contrition rarely is.”

I looked at him, trying to discern a real motive. His features gave nothing away. “Very well, I accept your offer, and will inform the Senior Healer and make the arrangements. I thank you, Doctor.”

“I prefer to be called Jylyj,” he said, rather stiffly. “Do you still wish to be addressed as Jarn?” When I nodded, he inclined his head. “Until we meet again, Jarn.” He strode away.

Five

Male laughter greeted me as I entered my quarters at the pavilion. Inside I saw our friends Qonja and Hawk sitting on the floor with Marel and playing a game of chase the string with the cats.

Reever met me at the door panel and took my hands in his. “You are late.” Through the link his touch established, he added, I have warned them that Xonea is monitoring us.

“Forgive me, but I had to speak with Squilyp’s resident.” I kissed him. How did you manage to do that?

“You might have signaled.” He took Marel’s school datapad from his tunic pocket and, using his body to shield it from the drone monitors, typed carefully on it before he cleared the screen.

Hawk, the crossbreed avatar-Terran who had helped rescue Cherijo after Joseph Grey Veil had abducted her and taken her back to Terra, appeared very tanned and healthy, as if he had been spending a great deal of time working outdoors. The wide, brown-feathered wings he had once concealed by pretending to be a hunchback now lay folded beneath his broad shoulders.

“Jarn.” Hawk came to envelop me in his arms and wings for a fond embrace. “It is good to see you.”

I hugged him back before exchanging a warm gesture of greeting with Qonja, Hawk’s bondmate. The Jorenian male also looked quite fit and happy.

“I’m glad to see you, but surprised, too,” I told Qonja, and turned to touch my brow to his in the Jorenian manner of greeting. “I thought Reever s you are to go, it will be on my ship.” He then regarded Qonja and Hawk. “I suppose you two intend to accompany us.”

“Jarn has consented to our joining the crew, but it is your ship,” Qonja said, his tone cool. “If our presence is as unwelcome there as it has been almost everywhere else, we should be told now.”

Xonea had been the one to expose Qonja and Hawk’s relationship to the Adan, I recalled.

“There has been much debate among the Houses over your bond,” Xonea said. “I am like most of our people in that I value our traditions and wish to see them preserved. I also believe the primary responsibility of those who Choose is to have children. Still, even one such as I can see the bond that exists between you and Hawk. It appears as real and enduring as”—he glanced at me—“any other I have witnessed.”

Qonja put his hand on Hawk’s shoulder. “It is.”

“Then this time, I will save you some trouble and assign you both to the same quarters on the Sunlace.” Xonea turned to Reever. “The ship has been undergoing some refitting at the Zamlon docks. I am traveling there tomorrow to inspect the work. If you and Jarn wish to accompany me, I will call for you in the morning.”

Like Xonea’s, my husband’s expression gave away none of his feelings. “We would, thank you.”

“Be ready to leave by midrise.” With a nod to the rest of us, my ClanBrother left.

“Am I hallucinating?” Hawk asked softly, “Or did I just hear Captain Xonea Torin acknowledge our bond?”

Qonja grinned. “If you did not, it was a shared hallucination.”

I heard a low, distressed sound, and looked past Qonja to see our daughter standing on the other side of the room with Fasala just inside the entrance to the courtyard.

“Your pardon, Healer Jarn.” Fasala looked miserable. “I did not wish to interrupt your visit, so I brought Marel back through the courtyard.”

“It’s all right, Fasala.” The stricken look on Marel’s small face told me how much of our discussion she had overheard. “I am sorry we did not have the chance to talk to you about the sojourn first.”

“You told ClanUncle and Hawk and even Fasala.” Marel knuckled away the tears in her eyes and gave me a defiant look. “You told everyone about it. Everyone but me. Now what will my friends say?” She ran off to her room, and Reever followed her.

“I think we should go,” Hawk said, and gave me a brief farewell embrace. Against my ear, he murmured, “The young are very forgiving.”

After I saw out Qonja and Hawk, I returned to hear the sounds of my daughter sobbing and Reever speaking in a low, soothing voice.

“Since your return from Trellus, Marel has been telling our friends that you would be staying and making your home here with us,” Fasala explained. “She even spoke to our ClanLeader about planting a garden of Terran vegetables, to see if they would grow here. I think this is the cause of her distress.”

“I knew she was becoming attached to this world, but . . .” I stopped and rubbed my eyes with my fingers. “We cannot take her with us on this expedition; it is too dangerous. Perhaps she will feel better when she knows that.”

When Marel was upset, Reever always managed her better than I could, so I busied myself with tidying up. An hour passed before he emerged and joined me in the food prep area.

“She is sleeping now.” He put his arm around my waist. “Don’t blame yourself, beloved. We knew this news would be difficult for her to accept.”

I knew, and still it did not make a difference. “I know it must be this way, and still I cannot bear to hear her weeping like that.” I took a deep breath and faced him. “Fasala mentioned something. It seems our daughter has been telling the other children that we were to make a home here. A permanent home.”

Reever frowned. “I have not said any such thing to her. Have you?”

I shook my head. “Who would make her believe something like that?”

“Perhaps something was said by someone who wishes us to remain on Joren.” His gaze shifted to the drone concealed in a nearby wall.

Xonea, of course. Another of his controlling tactics, and this time he used it on my daughter.

This time, he had made my daughter cry.

I couldn’t bear another moment of this farce, so I reached into the storage container and removed the largest, sharpest blade from it. “Look over there, Husband.” I made my voice as loud as I could without disturbing the child. “I think someone has planted a spying device in our quarters.”

“Jarn.” Duncan shook his head.

He was right; what I meant to do was a foolish thing. And I didn’t care. I went over to the wall and drove the knife into the embedded drone. The plasteel shattered the monitoring device, causing a short spray of sparks to shoot out of the wall.

“I wonder if there are others. Let me look.” I went to the next. “Oh, dear, here is another one.” I used the blade to pry this one out of the wall panel, and peered into its tiny lens. “Are you getting this picture, spy?” I dropped the drone to the floor and stomped on it until it lay in small pieces.

Reever did not stop me as I went from drone to drone and systematically destroyed all but one of them. With the last, I carefully removed it from its hiding place and brought it over to the disposal unit.

“Hello,” I said to the drone. “Please be advised of the following: If I find another monitoring device within a hundred meters of me, Reever, or Marel, I will have the person responsible explain why to the Ruling Council.” I paused. “After I beat him senseless for intruding on our privacy and deceiving our child.”

I crushed the drone in my hand before I dropped the remains into the disposal.

Reever came to stand next to me. “Regarding the beating, you will have to wait your turn.”

“Good.” I turned and went to the room terminal, and prepared a formal text signal before I asked my husband to translate it into Jorenian for me. As he read the message, I said, “I will send it now, unless you have any objections.”

He gave me one of his rare half smiles. “None at all.”

Marel woke up early, but said little to us as she had her morning meal and prepared for her day at sco the news of the expedition before I discussed it with her. Saying nothing made me feel as unhappy as the child, but I knew he was right.

We did not talk at all during the brief walk from our quarters to the school, but just before she entered her class Marel looked up at me.

The storm-dark color of her eyes told me she had not yet forgiven us for disappointing her. “Will I stay again with ClanUncle Salo and ClanAunt Darea while you are gone, Mama?”

“That is our wish.” I knelt down in front of her. “Marel, we love you, and we are very sorry that we hurt you. We should have told you first about the expedition. You are the most important person in our lives.”

“I want to be like the other kids here,” she told me. “They never have to be away from their families. Everyone stays together. That’s what kin does. If you and Daddy can’t be on Joren with me, then you should take me with you on the expedition.”

“We could,” I agreed. “But we will have much work to do, and this time there will be no other children on board the ship. I fear it would be very boring for you.”

“Then don’t go, Mama.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Stay here with me.”

I took her hands in mine. “An Iisleg woman cannot break a promise she makes, you know that.” When she nodded, I said, “When we return from this sojourn, I vow that Daddy and I will take you on a special trip. We won’t work or have meetings or be away from you. We will go only where you want to go, and only be where you want us to be.”

“I miss my friends at HouseClan Kalea. ClanLeader Jory said the next time I visited that she would teach me how to ride a t’lerue.” Clearly tempted, Marel bit her lower lip. “You promise, Mama?”

I pressed her hand to my heart. “I swear it.”

Marel flung her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. I held her until her teacher came to the entrance, and only then did I release her to join the class.

Reever stood waiting for me outside the pavilion. “Xonea signaled while you were out. He has gone ahead to check some of the engine work.”

“Perhaps he can have the Zamlon fix his monitoring drones, as well.” I went with Reever to the glidecar waiting at the end of the walking path. “I promised Marel that we would spend some time with her after the expedition. It is not enough, though. Soon we must decide how and where we are to live as a family.”

“We can discuss it during the sojourn.” Reever opened the passenger side of the vehicle for me. “For now, stop it.”

I glanced at him. “Stop what?”

“Worrying about our daughter, the expedition, the new bounty being offered, Xonea, and everything else in your head.” He buckled me into my harness. “We are together. Marel is safe. That is enough for now.”

I envied Reever that unwavering assurance, especially when I saw the glint from a tiny lens wink at me from a corner of the interior floor covering. As my husband went around to the other side of the vehicle, I bent down and swiftly yanked the monitoring drone out of the textured material.

“This should not take too long,” Reever said as he climbed in behind the control console. “Xonea has much to do to prepare for the sojourn.”

“Are we going on a sojourn, or declaring war on the oKia?” I tried to joke.

“I prefer to be prepared.” Reever slowed outside a restricted area and presented our identifications to a Zamlon security officer.

Beyond the gated entry stood open framework enclosures built around a dozen massive star vessels in various stages of construction and repair. Surrounding them were smaller, sleeker scouts and launches perched on lifts or suspended from cranes. Zamlon shipbuilders swarmed around, over, and under the vessels as they worked on them. Drone transports glided back and forth from enormous storage structures as they hauled heavy loads of cargo and construction materials.

I knew the Jorenians drew on forms from nature to design their star vessels; the Sunlace resembled the spi raling shell of a sea creature. Now I saw other, strangely compelling vessel designs that ranged from a cluster of falling stars to the closed petals of an enormous flower.

One ship in particular stood out from the others; a twin-hulled vessel only partially completed but already a magnet for the eye. Made of some dark golden alloy, the ship had an unusual amount of large viewer panels and double launch bays large enough to hold twenty or thirty smaller scout vessels. I had seen the remains of thousands of vessels during my years on Akkabarr, yet none of them even remotely resembled the design of this ship.

“Is that golden runner some sort of troop transport?” I asked my husband as we left the glidecar and walked to the Sunlace.

Reever paused to study it. “It’s not carrying enough weapons.” He saw the two launch bays. “It’s designed primarily to transport smaller vessels, but far more than the crew and passengers would ever need.” He tilted his head. “Those containment sections appear to be made to hold a separate type of atmosphere.”

“They hold water,” a low, pleasant voice said as a Jorenian in heavy welding gear joined us. “The crew are mostly ’Zangian aquatics. The ship itself will serve as an orbital base ship for planetary biorescue missions.”

The Jorenian removed his headgear, revealing a bald, dark green head and friendly white-within-white eyes.

“You must be the Kalean shipbuilder,” I guessed.

“Nalek Kalea,” he said, grinning to show strong, white Jorenian teeth as he made a warm gesture of greeting. “You two are the little comet’s parents, Jarn and Duncan.”

“We are.” I raised my brow. “Little comet?”

“Our pet name for your ClanDaughter,” Nalek said. “Never have I met a child as small, fast, shining, or determined as Marel.”

Nalek exchanged more formal greetings with Reever before escorting us to the Sunlace’s dock.

“Preparations for launch are nearly complete,” the Kalean told us after introducing his project manager. “The ship should ready to return to orbit before the end of theas he ma

“Captain Torin requested modifications be made to the weapons systems. Here, I will show you.” Nalek brought us to the starboard weapons array, and indicated some unfamiliar fittings and emitters. “Here the defense cannons have been modified. They can now deliver both pulse bursts and displacer ordnance.”

“Jorenians don’t use displacer technology,” I said, more confused now. “Only the Hsktskt do.”

“Pulse weapons are more precise, but displacer charges do more damage,” Nalek explained. “Captain Torin was quite specific about fitting the ship to deliver both.”

I spotted the Jorenian in question walking toward us. “Was he?”

Xonea offered a brief greeting before speaking to Nalek about an engine modification. At last he looked at me. “You will wish to go on board and inspect the medical bay.”

“I intend to,” I said. “But first I would like to know why you’ve had the ship’s weapons array refitted to deliver displacer ordnance.”

“We have received reports of recent attacks on ships traveling throughout the quadrant,” Xonea said, “carried out by a small band of mercenaries. Their success is due to a new technology that shielded their ships against standard League pulse weaponry.”

“Surely we can outrun some raiders,” I said.

“Several vessels that were attacked by these mercenaries have been brought to the docks for repairs,” Nalek said. “From what the captains tell us, the attackers come out of nowhere to disable their engines, perform intensive remote scans, and vanish again.”

“What sort of intensive scans?” Reever asked.

The shipbuilder made an uncertain gesture. “Nothing our equipment can identify, but they’re powerful. They scan the entire ship, access all the databases, and then leave.”

“Slavers used the same tactic on captured vessels,” my husband said. “They board them and use the readings from remote scans to locate what they want.”

I glanced at Reever, and my heart tightened. “Or who.”

He nodded, and then told the Jorenians, “The mercenaries are most likely bounty hunters scanning the ships for Terran life signs. They’re looking for me and Jarn.”

Nalek thought about it. “If they’re only interested in finding two Terrans, it will not be difficult on a ship crewed mainly by Jorenians.”

“I have had Nalek increase the sensitivity of our ship-to-ship proximity alarms,” Xonea said. “As soon as they transition anywhere within one hundred thousand kim of the Sunlace, we will know and take action.”

“It would be better to make them think there are no Terrans on board,” my husband said, and turned to Nalek. “When I piloted a slave runner, we adjusted the external reflectors to shield the crew by constantly projecting Rilken life signs. All it required was a portable simulator and some creative circuit bypasses.”

Nalek grimaced. “A clever ploy. No slaver would attack a Rilken ship, not even if they were desperate.”

Reever nodded. “Perhaps the same can be done by adjusting the Sunlace’s buffer grid to use the dimensional simulators to alter my and Jarn’s life signs to o mae for a few minutes?”

I agreed, and waited until the men boarded the ship before I spoke to my ClanBrother. “Did you get my message last night?”

He stiffened. “I received no signal from you.”

“It wasn’t a signal. At least, not after I destroyed all the drones you planted in our quarters. But you needn’t worry. I saved one that I found this morning.” I took from my pocket the monitoring drone I had found in the vehicle. “Here, let me repeat the message.” I dropped the drone on the ground between us and crushed it under my footgear.

My ClanBrother looked away from the ruined device, but said nothing.

“I don’t care that you dislike me, Xonea,” I advised him, “and out of my regard for our mutual kin I’ve tolerated your pathetic attempts to spy on me and Reever. But lying to my child? That seems excessive, even for you.”

Now he glared at me. “Jorenians do not lie.”

“I know you were the one who told Marel that we would be making a home here on Joren,” I snapped. “Neither Reever nor I have ever agreed to do so. No one else would be so cruel.”

“You are a member of the Ruling Council. A ClanDaughter of the Torin,” he reminded me. “Joren is your home.”

“Last night I resigned from the council,” I told him, and enjoyed the jolt of shock that crossed his stern face.

“You cannot resign without my approval,” Xonea finally said. “I will petition the council to have you reinstated.”

“On what grounds will you file the petition on my behalf? Mental instability due to the effects of the amnesia?” I made my smile icy and sweet. “That was the reason I gave for my resignation.”

Xonea stepped closer. “You think you have prevailed over me? I am still your closest blood kin. As such, I can call off the expedition. I can revoke your privileges as a citizen. I can even have you committed to a psychiatric facility for as long as I think appropriate.”

“If I remain a member of HouseClan Torin. I can think of several ways to provoke an act of repudiation. Threatening to kill a ClanBrother before our kin, for example, would serve quite well.” The words hung between us for a time. Then I said, “If that is what it will take to put an end to your harassment of me and my family, Xonea, I will do it.”

“You would destroy the honor of my ClanBrother Kao, of my kin, simply to thwart me?” Horror filled his eyes. “You are mad.”

“No more than someone who would rather see me imprisoned than allow me my freedom,” I shot back. “You are no better than the bounty hunters or the League. Or Cherijo’s father.”

Xonea turned his back on me with a jerky motion and stared out at the horizon. After a long silence, he said, “So now the path changes.”

I recalled what I had learned of Jorenian philosophy, and made the correct response. “So, too, must the traveler.”

“You will not withdraw your resignation from the council?” He watched me shake my head. “Neither would she. Cherijo did not believe in half measures or surrender. She fought unto the end.”

“So will I,” I promised him.

I saw Reever and Nalek emerge from the ship and start towardan call o pocket. “You have your freedom, Healer.”

Six

Reever and I left the rest of the preparations for the expedition in the capable hands of the crew, and spent the remaining time we had on Joren with Marel. I knew we had not banished all her worries over the coming separation, but neither of us wished to distress her further by referring to it or trying to explain all the important reasons we had to go.

Instead we did what we had had precious little time to do: enjoyed each day together as a family, taking her on outings, playing all of her favorite games, and accompanying her to the Torin’s evening gatherings. After several days of having our undivided affection and attention, Marel regained most of her natural, sunny happiness, and seemed to forget that we were soon to leave her again.

A reminder came when Nalek Kalea signaled Duncan early one morning to request his presence at the docks to inspect some interior modification on the Sunlace.

“I would send someone else, but no one understands the specifications as well as I do,” he told me. “I will return in a few hours.”

We had been late returning from last night’s gathering, and the child was still sleeping, so I saw no harm in it. “If Marel wakes before you come back, I will take her down to the shore.” I kissed him. “But don’t be too long.”

Soon after that our daughter did wake, and grew petulant as soon as she realized her father had left. “You and Daddy said we would go to see the new baby t’lerue today. ClanAunt Darea says they are just starting to lope.”

“We will,” I told her. “But first I would like to walk down to the water. You said that you would show me where to find the prettiest shells.”

She pouted. “You don’t like shells, Mama. The first time you saw my collection, you asked me why I was keeping jars of skeletons in my room.”

I suppressed a wince. I had been vaguely horrified to find Marel collecting the remains of deceased crustaceans, until Duncan had explained that they were considered by many species as ornamental objects.

“There are no seas or sea creatures on Akkabarr, so I did not know the proper term for them.” That much was true. “I like them well enough.” That wasn’t.

Marel saw right through me. “You’re just saying that so I won’t be mad about Daddy being gone.”

“I am a healer, and I may be called upon to treat patients with exoskeletons,” I said, keeping my tone firm. “Learning more about them could help me with my work.” If I ever went to a sea world and had to rescue mollusks.

That seemed to placate her. “All right. But I want to take some string so I can make a necklace for Daddy.”

“Of course.” I squashed the unappealing image of Reever wearing a loop of tiny skeletons around his neck. At least she hadn’t wanted to make one for me. “I know he will love it.”

HouseClan Torin’s territory was known as Marine province, and for good reason. The distance from the pavilion to the shoreline was less than a mile, an easy walk from our quarters. Yet by the time we reached the dark, golden sands of the beach, Marel’s enthusiasm had dimmed again.

“Here we arehealer, angly endless stretch of amber sand forming a pretty fringe on the purple waters. “Where should we start searching?” I pointed to a promising-looking cluster of small dead bodies. “There?”

“No, those are too old. They’re all bleached out from the sun.” She sat down at my feet and rested her chin against her knees. “I don’t want any shells.”

I sat down beside her. “We could build dwellings of sand. You could sculpt a Terran castle for me, and I could make . . . a jlorra enclosure.”

Her face turned up. “Mama, let Daddy go alone on the sojourn. Nothing bad will happen if you stay here with me.”

If Xonea had made Marel think that I was in danger by going on the expedition, this time I’d smash more than a couple of recording drones. “Why do you think something bad will happen?”

“My dreams.” She ducked her head. “I have them almost every night now, and they’re really awful. In the dreams I see you go away, and you never come back.”

“You are not dreaming; you are remembering what happened after we visited Oenrall.” I put my arm around her. “That was when I was taken from you and Daddy, and I didn’t come back. Daddy had to find me.”

“No, it’s not about the time when I was a baby. It’s different,” she insisted. “In my dreams you’re wearing your blades under your tunic, and there is a little purple flower in your hair. You hug me and kiss me good-bye, and then I never see you again.”

“Well, I know what to do about that,” I said. “I promise you, I will never hug you again.”

“Mama.”

“Or kiss you. As for this little purple flower”—I rolled my eyes up toward my hairline—“I will slice open the first person who tries to put it on my head.”

A giggle escaped her. “What if it’s me or Daddy?”

“I can’t gut either of you. Hmmm.” I pretended to think about it. “I know. I will yell ‘No’ very loud, and then I will run away.” I touched my forehead to hers in Jorenian fashion. “I promise you.”

“Mama, you’re so silly.” Sighing, Marel pulled me to my feet. “Come on, I’ll show you the tide pools. That’s where the best shells are.”

We half ran, half skidded our way down the side of the dune, and then walked toward a cluster of flat stones that held shallow pools of dark water.

Something caught Marel’s eye, and she stopped and pointed. “Who’s that, Mama?”

I shaded my eyes with my hand and saw in the distance a tall, lean figure rising from the water and removing a breather. Black swimming trunks covered the man’s hips, but the rest of his body remained bare. At first I thought him a crossbreed like Nalek Kalea, until he shook himself all over to shed the water from his dark brown pelt.

“I think that is Jylyj, a Skartesh resident who works at the medical facility.” I cupped my hands over my mouth and called out his name, and then waved.

The Skartesh halted and turned toward the sound of my voice, but instead of returning my call or waving back, he waded out of the water, picked up some gear, and disappeared behind a dune.

“Why did he go away?” Marel asked, clearly disappointed.

“I don’t know.” I watched for a moment longer, but Jylyj did not reappear. “Perhaps he had to report for duty. It matters not.” I to believe that I had invited an alterform to join our expedition. “He would have had to submit a DNA sample in order to obtain a transfer from K-2 to Joren.”

Reever nodded. “But as a doctor living among the Skartesh, he could have easily obtained a genuine DNA sample from one of their males and submitted it as his own.”

I felt a little sick. “I should ask him if that is what he did.”

“If Jylyj has been alterformed, it could not have been for any innocent reason,” Reever said. “Confronting him is too dangerous.”

“I agree, but as he is a member of the expedition, I would rather find out now than while we are in space.” I picked up one of my medical scanners and turned it over in my hands. “If only I could perform a physical on him. I could say it is a requirement for everyone going on the expedition.”

“That is not standard crew procedure, and he has worked on Joren for some time now. He will know you are lying.” Reever took the scanner from me and set it aside. “We’ll think of something else.”

“Jylyj was off duty this morning, so he will be working the night shift at the medical facility,” I said. “There are some patients I would like to see before we leave. I think I will go over there now.”

Reever didn’t like that. “What are you planning to do?”

“If I can obtain a sample of his DNA, that should confirm what he is.” I glanced down as Jenner rubbed his head against my calf, and then leapt up onto my lap and butted his head against my chest.

“Whether he is Skartesh or not, you will have to have his cooperation to obtain a sample,” my husband warned. “He will first want to know why you want it.”

“True.” I put the cat down on the floor, and looked at the stray silver hairs left on my trousers. “Unless I can collect the DNA from somewhere other than his person.”

“Be careful.” Reever handed me my blade harness. “For if you do not return in two hours, I will go to collect the Skartesh’s DNA. With a blade.”

Driving to the medical facility took only a few moments, and after signing in with the duty nurse at reception, I went up to the surgical floor. I didn’t bother to announce myself, but made my way around the quiet, dimly lit ward, stopping here and there to read charts. As I expected, Jylyj left the ward station as soon as he saw me and came to the berth where I stood.

“I was not aware you were on call, Jarn,” he said, his voice low so as not to disturb the patient.

“I’m not. I couldn’t sleep, and I know Squilyp is in the capital, so I thought I would stop in and check on the ward.” I handed him the chart. “This female’s bone scans look very good.” I pulled up the linens covering the bonesetters clamped to her fractured legs, exposing her to the waist, but did not pull them back in place. “If her progress remains stable, she should be scheduled to begin physical therapy by the end of the week.”

“I stated the same on the consult I sent to the physical therapist earlier this evening.” He hung the chart on the end of the berth before re-draping the patient’s limbs. “Is there anything else?”

“I saw you today down at Adalan Point as you came out of the water.” I came around the berth orin land that does not contain some trace of salt.”

I hated it when my husband destroyed one of my theories. “So there is no valid reason to suspect that Jylyj is anything but what he appears to be.” I thought about what the resident had suggested. “What if this has something to do with me instead of him? Could it have been some errant memory that made me imagine that I saw him in the water?”

“Neither I nor Cherijo had any contact with the Skartesh,” Reever said. “The species were still living on their homeworld when she was serving on K-2. By the time they fled their planet, you were already on Akkabarr.”

“Where I never saw a single Skartesh, either.” I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. “Perhaps I did make a mistake, and saw someone else who resembled Jylyj. That would explain why the male did not respond to my call.” But I had been so sure, and that still bothered me.

“Let it go for now.” My husband reached over, switched off the terminal, and drew me to my feet. “Come to bed.”

Thinking about the Skartesh kept me from sleeping well that night, but near dawn I finally drifted off from exhaustion. I woke alone, and found a message from Reever stating that he and Marel had gone on an outing to see the famous tiered gardens of HouseClan Varena, and would return later that day.

I suspected my husband had been aware of my restlessness and had taken our daughter out to allow me additional time to sleep. But I had no desire to return to bed or spend the day in idleness. Fortunately, Squilyp signaled soon after that to ask if I would work a few hours at the medical facility.

“The Adan have invited me to stay for another day,” the Omorr explained,“and I won’t return in time to make surgical rounds. Jylyj mentioned that you stopped in last night to look in on some of the patients, so I thought you wouldn’t mind paying them another visit today.”

I wondered exactly what the resident had said to the Senior Healer. “I have no objection, but your resident might.”

Squilyp looked surprised. “Not at all. In fact, I assumed you and Duncan were off with Marel, so I wouldn’t have signaled, if not for Jylyj’s suggestion. He would rather have you than one of the on-call Jorenian healers.” Humor glinted in his dark eyes. “I think you have made another conquest, Doctor.”

I thought the exact opposite, but I wouldn’t find out what Jylyj’s motives were by hiding in my quarters. “I’ll be there shortly.”

This time I put a pistol belt as well as my blade harness under my tunic, and strapped my forearms with the twin sheaths I had worn on the battlefields on Akkabarr. Whatever Jylyj wanted from me, I intended to be prepared for the worst.

The Skartesh stood waiting outside the entrance to the surgical ward, as if watching for me, but greeted me in his usual reserved fashion and thanked me for replacing Squilyp. His voice sounded as tired as I felt, and the weight of the weapons concealed under my tunic dragged at me, as if to condemn me for my assumptions.

“We have two post-op patients just transferred from recovery,” the resident said as we walked down the line of berths. “One male had a moderate reaction to the anesthesia and is not yet lucid. With your consent, we should start with his case.”

Joreniansim to the berth. I had to use all the nurses to hold him in place while I strapped him down.”

The patient in question, an enormous male with serious internal injuries from a transport mishap, was semiconscious and trying to move despite the restraints. As soon as he saw us, he began babbling nonsense and straining to lift himself away from the berth.

Much more of this and he would tear open his sutures. “Why didn’t recovery administer neuroparalyzer?”

“They did,” Jylyj said. “Three separate doses. It had no effect.”

The only reason for that would be the presence of a counteragent. “Run a tox scan.” I went over to the side of the berth and put my hand on the patient’s brow. “ClanSon, you must be still now. You are only making your wounds worse by fighting.”

The male stopped moving and stared up at me. “Who are you?”

“I am Healer Torin. This is Healer Jylyj.”

The white eyes shifted from my face to the resident’s and back again. “Where am I? What are you?”

I realized too late that my Terran features and Jylyj’s Skartesh countenance would seem strange, even frightening, to a patient in his condition. “You are in HouseClan Torin’s medical facility. We are the healers who are caring for you.”

The male looked down at the scanner Jylyj was passing over his chest and fought wildly against the straps.

“ClanSon, you must be still,” I began to tell him, but then one of his arms ripped free of the straps. I saw a huge blue fist coming at my face, turned quickly and took the blow on my shoulder. The force of the impact still sent me flying across the next berth and into a storage unit, which collapsed under me.

I winced, sitting up and reaching for whatever was stabbing into the back of my shoulder. I couldn’t reach it, and my hand came away red with blood.

I looked over and saw that three nurses now surrounded the berth, holding down the patient while Jylyj reinforced the restraints and administered an infusion. By the time I staggered to my feet, the patient was unconscious.

Jylyj came to me and saw the blood on my tunic. “You are injured.”

“Something’s stuck in my back.” Wet warm inched down my spine, and I felt the familiar dizziness that accompanied rapid blood loss. “I’ll get a nurse to see to it. Check our patient for internal hemorrhaging. What knocked him out?”

“I don’t know, but he’s not bleeding inside. Jarn.” Jylyj caught me as I sagged, and lifted me into his arms. He began issuing orders as he carried me into a procedure room.

I found myself facedown on a treatment table. “You don’t have to do this,” I told the resident. “A nurse can clean out the wound. Go take care of the patient.”

“Must I put you in restraints?” He slit my tunic from hem to neck and pulled it aside. He didn’t do or say anything for a moment, and then I felt blunt claws trace a strap of my blade harness. “Why are you armed?”

“I’m always armed.” I lifted my head and tried to look over my shoulder. “What’s making me bleed?”

“A piece of alloy. Hold still.” Jylyj brought a suture tray over to the table and cut away more of my tunic, exposing my right shoulder.

“Don’t give me a locals, just pull it out and repair the bleeders. It won’t kill me.”

“No, but it could paralyze you. One end has lodged close to your spine.” Soft fur touched the back of my neck as he covered my face with a surgical drape. “You must not move when I am removing it.”

“I won’t.” I gripped the edge of the table with both hands. “Do it.”

He enabled a suture laser, then his fur brushed my skin. The thing in my back slid sideways, and I took in a sharp breath as pain slashed across my shoulders.

The extraction took only a few seconds, but it felt as if it took forever. My vision blurred, and I heard metal hitting a tray. The rawness of my wound turned scalding hot as Jylyj went to work with the suture laser.

“I’ve found three bleeders,” he told me as he worked. “None of them are serious.”

“Right.” I gritted my teeth as the smell of my own flesh being cauterized filled my nose.

To Jylyj’s credit, he worked very fast, pausing only to scan the wound for debris before he irrigated it, closed it, and began to apply a light dressing.

“I don’t need that,” I told him, lifting my head under the shroud. “Take this thing off my face.”

“Something’s wrong.” Blunted claws curled over the back of my neck. “Stay where you are.”

“It’s no cause for alarm.” I could feel the edges of the wound shrinking, and knew he was watching it happen. “I heal very fast.”

“That would explain why one of the shallow bleeders repaired itself.” The clamping hold he had on my neck eased, became almost gentle. At the same time, a deliciously warm sensation spread out over my back. “You’re not Terran or Akkabarran. They don’t heal like this.”

“It’s a long story.” I didn’t like the way my body was going limp. “What are you . . .” The rest was lost along with my consciousness.

When I opened my eyes some time later, I saw the ceiling of the procedure room. Jylyj had turned me over, removed the remains of my tunic, and draped me with a modesty shroud. I saw him hovering, and glanced down at the sponge he was using to clean the blood from my neck.

“How long was I out?”

Dark eyes met mine. “Only a few minutes. Reaction to the blood loss, I think.” He used a folded square of linen to dry my throat. “How are you feeling?”

I moved my injured shoulder, which felt vaguely sore but otherwise normal. “Much better. Tell me you did not signal my husband.”

“I did not signal your husband.” He lifted me into a sitting position, and I slapped a hand against the drape to keep it from falling away from my breasts. That was when I realized what else he had removed.

I looked around the table. “Where are my blades?”

“I put them and the harness in the sanitizer.” He brought me a scrub tunic. “They were covered in blood. So were your pulse pistols, but I cannot clean those with this equipment.”

“I will hand clean them later.” I held the drape in place as I awkwardly worked the scrub top over my head. “What about the patient?”

The Skartesh removed the stained linens from the table. “He is resting cutralize the existing chemicals in his bloodstream.” Jylyj helped me work my arms into the sleeves. “It seems prior to his accident, he was taking neuromuscular stimulants.”

“He has Satala Varena Syndrome.” Jorenians suffered from few diseases, but very active males in midlife sometimes developed a dysfunction of the nervous system that caused progressive deterioration of the muscles. “One of the drugs used to treat it is made from the primary counteragent for neuroparalyzer. Have you—”

“I have him on an oxygen feed and will keep him under close monitor,” Jylyj said, answering my question before I could finish asking it. He rested one of his paws on my shoulder to steady me. “If his lungs begin to fail, we will intubate.”

Being alone with the resident and the way he kept touching me made me feel uncomfortable, and I swung my legs over the side of the table. “He will need to resume his medication for the Satala as soon as possible.”

“I have scheduled the appropriate dosage to be administered as soon as he stabilizes. Let me help you.” He put his arm around my waist as I moved off the table, and frowned down at me. “I see some blood in your hair.” He used his claws to move aside some tangles. “Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t think so.” This close to the resident, I could smell his scent, which was as warm and soft as his fur. There was something about it that reminded me of the pungent herbs Reever sometimes used when he prepared food. I reached up to touch my scalp and feel for a wound.

“No.” Jylyj caught my fingers and held them. “There is nothing there.” He bent his head, bringing it closer to mine, and his breath touched my cheek. “The blood must have come from the shoulder wound.”

I went still as I felt him stroking his claws through my hair. “Jylyj, I will brush out my hair after I cleanse.”

He made a vague affirmative sound as he brought a length of my hair to his nose and breathed in. The paw he held against my abdomen spread and pressed against me.

“Doctor.” I made my tone sharp and clear. “I’m fine now. I think we should go and complete rounds.”

Jylyj raised his head to look into my eyes, and his teeth flashed. For a moment I thought he might try to bite me, until he removed his paws and stepped back.

“Yes. Of course.” He turned away, his back muscles rigid. “I will join you after I finish cleaning up in here.”

I left the procedure room and went to the post-op patient who had hit me. The nurse taking his vitals gave me a concerned look.

“Healer Jarn, are you well? We were worried—”

“I’m fine.” I scanned the patient, but the readings only confirmed everything Jylyj had told me. If anything, the patient’s condition had improved dramatically.

I didn’t know what to think about what had happened between me and the resident in the procedure room. It reminded me too much of the time I had been abducted by PyrsVar on Vtaga. After taking me to his desert hide-out, the alterformed Jorenian had made plain his intention to force me to become his mate.

What Jylyj had done was far more disturbing. He had behaved almost as if he didn’t realize what he had been doing—or couldn’t stop himself. Even more be bite me, t back and freed myself before he could force himself on me. I didn’t know what to do about the resident. Reever and I shared the same passion for each other, so I welcomed his touch. Aside from dealing with PyrsVar’s lust, I had no other experience with aroused males.

An Iisleg male could make use of almost any woman. The only reason I had not been used was because I had been taken in by the skela. Forbidden by tribal law to touch the living, the dead handlers were never used by the men of the tribes.

To my knowledge, hardly any ensleg males were permitted to freely make use of their females. According to Reever, Terran females had to give their consent before a male could couple with them, and some required marriage first. Jorenian customs were even stricter than that; they were obliged to pledge their lifelong loyalty and fidelity to one female before they were permitted to couple for the first time in their lives.

Jylyj had not behaved like any other ensleg male I had met since living on Akkabarr. Still, after serving on Joren for so long, he had to know that he could not help himself to any female he desired. From what Darea had told me, rape was one of the rarest and most despised crimes on Joren. Males found forcing a woman to couple were not even given a hearing—they were immediately disemboweled.

I felt a sudden, compelling desire to get as far away from Jylyj as I could. “Who is the on-call healer for this shift?” I asked the nurse.

She checked her datapad. “It is Healer Atovea.”

“Signal him and have him report to finish rounds with Resident Jylyj.” I handed her the chart and walked quickly off the ward.

Once I returned to my quarters, I secured the door panel and stripped out of my garments. Reever could read my thoughts as easily as a display screen, and if I kept dwelling on the incident he would eventually discover what had happened. Whatever the resident had or had not meant to do to me, I had to stop thinking about it.

I spent the next hour in the cleanser, washing the blood out of my hair and Jylyj out of my thoughts.

Seven

The day of our departure from Joren arrived, and at dawn Reever and I reported to Torin Main Transport. We had kept Marel up late the night before, saving our farewells for when she went to sleep, and did not wake her to accompany us to the ship. After I told him about the nightmares she had been having, Reever thought it better that she not be there to see the ship launch.

“I know we have to do this, but I still feel as if I’m betraying her by leaving,” I confessed as we walked to the lift to board the Sunlace. “Her dreams have convinced her that I won’t return this time.”

“This is not the first time she has had such dreams,” Reever said. “For years after the Jado Massacre, she would wake in the night, crying and calling out your name. The nightmares didn’t stop until I found you on Akkabarr.”

We handed over our cases to the cargo master and entered the boarding lift. Reever held the gate open for a porter carrying a tall stack of slat-sided containers. The Jorenian thanked my husband, grimacing because he could not use his hands to make the usual polite gestures, and braced himself against the back of the lift.

I eyed the stack, which wobbled as the lift jerked into motion. I saw some t’vessslats, and Marel’s voice rang in my ears.

In my dreams you’re wearing your blades under your tunic, and there is a little purple flower in your hair. You hug me and kiss me good-bye, and then I never see you again.

I swallowed against my dry throat. “Duncan, why are they loading plants onto the ship?”

“The Jorenians prefer their native foods over synthetics, so the Torin bring a select amount of edibles on board the ship,” Reever said. “On long sojourns, they even grow them.”

I pointed. “They don’t eat those.”

“The t’vessna are kept in pots in the crew’s quarters and common areas to improve the quality of the air. They are also the symbolic flower of HouseClan Torin.” Reever looked up and moved quickly to catch the top container as it tipped over and fell from the stack. Some of the contents spilled out and were blown off the lift by the strong morning breeze.

“No,” the porter groaned. “That w">I still didn’t like having it on board. “As soon as we’re finished with the survey, I want that specimen dropped into the nearest star.”

“I have no desire to begin a collection,” my husband assured me as he removed a disk from his tunic pocket and turned away from me. At the same time, something fluttered to the floor, and I bent down to retrieve it.

As I straightened, I closed my hand over it and said, “I have to report to medical. Excuse me.”

Only when I was outside in the corridor did I open my hand and stare at what had fallen out of Reever’s pocket. It had been crushed by a strong hand, but I recognized it. Several containers of the same had fallen from the lift that morning, just before my husband had taken me in his arms and kissed me.

I remembered the odd look, the feel of his hands in my hair as he kissed me, and went to the nearest disposal unit.

In my dreams you’re wearing your blades under your tunic, and there is a little purple flower in your hair.

I dropped the mashed thing in the intake receptacle and switched it on.

You hug me and kiss me good-bye, and then I never see you again.

Once the disposal had reduced the remains of the t’vessna flower to an organic mush, I vented the unit’s contents into space.

An hour later, when the entire crew had reported for duty, I held a brief meeting in medical to introduce myself and become acquainted with my new staff. Squilyp had given me a full complement of experienced nurses, three interns, and an orthopedic resident in her second year. Jylyj, however, was the most experienced physician on staff, and with some misgivings I designated him as the Supervising Healer, which gave him the right to act as Senior Healer whenever I was off duty or not on board the ship.

“Unless the sojourn requires us to do otherwise, we will work standard three-shift rotations,” I told my staff. “As we have no patients at present, your first assignment is to run diagnostic checks on all of the equipment. I know Senior Healer Squilyp likely had you do that before we left Joren”—I noted the wry smiles all around—“but the stress of launching and transitioning has been known to cause random equipment malfunctions. We don’t want to assume everything is working; we want to be certain of it. Do you have any questions?”

One nurse lifted her hand in a polite gesture. When I nodded to her, she said, “Very little information on the oKiaf is available from our database, Healer Jarn. Is there a comparable species we can study in order to better prepare for the jaunt down to the planet?”

“The Skartesh and the oKiaf possess nearly identical physiologies,” Jylyj said, startling me. “You may access my medical records, or request data from Kevarzangia Two. The physicians at the colony’s free clinic have treated thousands of Skartesh refugees.”

I didn’t know whether to admire or suspect the Skartesh for recommending the medical staff contact K-2 for more information on his species while making his own records available to them. He either had nothing to hide or had hidden the truth so well he presumed they would never discover it.

Before I could comment on his generosity, a voice from the bay com panel announced that the ship would be transitioning in five minutes.

Like my

“Relieving the compression injury at the primary vertebrae restored circulation to the rest of the spine, and preserved the greatest degree of limb function.” I gestured toward the monitors. “Had the patient shown any signs of respiratory distress, I would have attended to repairing the lung.”

“That is not standard procedure,” he said. “Being able to walk is not as important as being able to breathe.”

“You should check the database for cases of Tingalean paralysis,” I advised him. “You will find that the post-op infection rate triples, and most die within the first year from complications related to immobility. Being able to walk, at least for Tingaleans, is what keeps them breathing.”

His expression became skeptical. “How often do you think a Jorenian healer like Herea will operate on a Tingalean patient?”

“Now that the war is over and travel restrictions have been lifted, Herea may choose to join the crew of a HouseClan exploration vessel. Tingaleans and several other reptilian species often serve on Jorenian ships.” Belatedly, I recanal Qonja and ask him to come back to the lab? I’m having trouble with the com units.”

A deep, resonant vibration accompanying the static interference made my ears ache, but Qonja didn’t seem to react.

“What trouble?” I waited for a reply, but the resonant static increased, blocking out the sound of Reever’s voice before the relay terminated. “Did you hear that, beneath the static? That thrumming sound?”

“I cannot say that I did.” Qonja touched my forearm.“I will go. I am sure it is only an equipment malfunction.”

Just as I had the feeling it wasn’t. “I’ll come with you.”

I didn’t hear the resonant sound again until Qonja and I entered the survey lab. There we found Reever on his back under the main control panel. I rushed over, only to stop as my husband’s hand appeared and groped for a tool from the repair kit sitting beside the console.

I knelt down. “What do you need?”

“The smallest impact wrench.” When I placed it in his hand, he took it and said, “Thank you. What are you doing here? I thought you were working an extra shift.”

“No, I left at shift change and went with Qonja to the galley to meet you.” I frowned. “Why did you think that I was working late?”

“That is what I was told when I signaled medical to tell you I would be delayed.” He hammered on something, and then eased out from under the console and stood.

“I will check with the staff to see who wishes to overwork me.” The thrumming sound made my ears itch. “What is making that noise?”

Reever stood up and turned to me. “What noise?”

“Never mind. Qonja couldn’t hear it, either.” I glanced at the plas-sided chamber, and the black crystal in its shielded specimen container. Although the opaque housing muted its dark glitter, its presence still made me feel uneasy. It looked larger, too, which alarmed me. “Is that thing growing?”

“It cannot,” Qonja assured me. “The interior of the chamber is a vacuum that is kept at absolute zero.”

“It looks bigger to me.” I turned to my husband. “Have you the means to measure the size of it?”

“I can run a comparison scan, but it is as Qonja says. There is nothing it can use to add to its matrix and expand its dimensions.” He switched on the console and tapped a few controls.

I walked closer to the chamber and studied the crystal from all angles. Although the men didn’t hear the resonant sound, and the crystal hung motionless in its vacuum, I felt convinced that it was responsible for the sonic interference.

“You are correct, Wife.” Reever said, his voice tight. “The crystal’s matrix has increased in size. It is growing.”

Eight

“This cannot be.” Qonja went to the console to examine the readings. “There must be an error in the original readings.”

“The atoms in the crystal matrix are active,” Reever said. “They are vibrating about their equilibrium positions with amplitudes comparable to low-temperature plasma phasing.”

The Jorenian muttered something under his breath. “That sort of thermal agitation is not possible, not at absolute zero.” size="3">“It is bigger than it was,” I put in, “so it has to be doing something.”

“It may be displacive restructuring,” Qonja said. “Stable silica has a rhombohedral structure in low-temperature form. Heat it above five hundred seventy-three degrees Celsius, and the atoms interconvert into hexagonal symmetry.” He saw my blank look, and explained, “That would mean it is changing shape because of the temperature, not growing.”

“I would agree, but we still haven’t identified the interatomic forces responsible for the black crystal’s cohesion and stability,” my husband said. “Until we do, we cannot assume it is restructuring.”

“We can if we look at the cause instead of the effect,” Qonja insisted. “Shifts in temperature and pressure are the most common factors involved in an enantiotropic polymorphic transformation. We have placed the black crystal in a zero vacuum. It is not unreasonable or unusual to observe a structural response to the change in environment.”

Reever shook his head. “Its atoms are neither ionic nor covalent. They’re not intercompositional, and don’t resemble any known matrix. It may look like a crystal, but I assure you, it is something else entirely.”

I left them to debate their theories and drew closer to the plas chamber. The impact crater we discovered on Trellus had been solidly paved with black crystal, I recalled. Trellus was a dead, frozen, airless rock of a planet; nothing could live on its surface without protection. I had assumed that the crystal in the crater had been deposited there, carried by some ancient meteor that had slammed into the surface.

What if it had not landed, but instead had grown there?

I turned around to face the men. “How fast is it growing?”

Qonja consulted the console. “According to the scans, its matrix increases one millimeter every thirty hours.”

I did some calculations. “If it continues to grow at this rate, it will breach the specimen container in ten days. Do you agree?” He nodded reluctantly. “Duncan, can you enable this failsafe of yours manually?”

“We have an override,” he said. “Before you tell me to eject it from the ship, I want you to think about something. We have never observed the crystal in a state of change. This may be the only opportunity we have to do so under controlled conditions, and what we learn could help us combat the threat it poses to all life.”

“Your controlled conditions will be useless in a few days.” I knew he was right, but I didn’t have to like it. “It will have to be closely watched, Duncan, in the event this restructuring or growth or whatever it is becomes more rapid. You and Qonja cannot do that by yourselves.”

“I’ll ask the captain to assign a security officer to the lab during our off-duty hours.” He came to stand with me and held my hand. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” I tugged him toward the console. “Now show me how to engage the manual override. I want to know exactly how to feed this wretched thing to the stars.”

We arrived on the edge of oKia’s solar system and assumed a stationary position, from which Xonea planned to send a remote signal requesting permission to enter oKiaf space. Reever and I joined him in communications in the event the authohim in c/i> had been intercepted by two well-armed patrol vessels.

“This does not bode well,” Xonea said as we relocated to command. “Duncan, were you able to locate one of your allies in the area?”

My husband nodded. “Last night. Uorwlan should be arriving shortly to meet us.”

Xonea took the helm and studied the scans of the patrol vessels. “Both of these ships are scout-class vessels, but they’re outfitted like attack strafers. They’re also carrying drop mines and have large cryotanks attached to both sides of the fuselage.”

“Drop mines are only used for short-range air-to-surface bombardment,” I said. “Why would they use them out here?”

“To blow large holes in a vessel,” Reever said. “Once they breached the hull, they’d drop the cryotanks inside and trigger them to flood the ship.”

I knew of only one species whose troop carriers would be susceptible to such a bizarre attack. “They’re armed to fight League and Hsktskt invasion forces. But why? Peace has been declared.”

“Declared by the Hsktskt and the League,” Reever amended. “The oKiaf obviously think otherwise.” He turned to Xonea. “If they have stopped using League technology, they may no longer use signal translators. Without direct contact with the oKiaf, my ability to interpret will be limited.”

“We already have a native interpreter,” Xonea said, nodding toward Jylyj, who at some point had come into command and now stood to one side.

Xonea sent a standard greeting to the patrol ships, adding a phrase in universal at the end they could easily understand. One of them responded almost immediately, but thankfully used a translation-enabled signal.

“This is Sentinel Wilnas of oKia,” the patrol commander said. “You have entered restricted flight space. State your reasons for doing so.”

The image of a pilot appeared on the console display. For a moment the face seemed so familiar I thought it Jylyj, until I noticed the lighter fur color and longer, narrower features. The eyes, too, appeared different; with light-colored irises containing a central oblong pupil. Colorful polished beads and small pieces of carved wood hung from the pilot’s intricately woven mane, through which many streaks of white hair were scattered.

The pilot wore a flight suit, but this, too, had been altered in unique ways. What appeared to be a length of spotted skin had been sewn to the shoulders; gleaming dark green and brown stone beads had been arranged on the stiff collar in what I guessed was his rank insignia.

“I am Captain Xonea Torin from Joren. My crew and I are conducting geological surveys of inhabited planets in this region. We collect data only and intend no harm or intrusion.”

As Xonea gave the oKiaf official a carefully worded version of the truth, I noted that he didn’t mention me or Reever, which I thought a prudent decision. The oKiaf might have been able to keep offworlder ships out of their space, but offworld signals had to be detected before they could be jammed. If they didn’t care to have contact with outsiders, they probably wouldn’t hesitate to hand two of them over to a bounty hunter.

After Xonea had finished explaining our mission, Sentinel Wilnas did not respond. Xonea didn’t seem troubled by this.

“A patrol officer has only a limited amount of authority uStatr mission does not require us to come in direct contact with the oKiaf. He is likely signaling his command to request new orders.”

“If we detect black crystal on their planet,” I said, “I will need to examine some of the natives.”

“We will do as much as they will permit, Jarn.” Xonea turned back to the console as a new signal came over the channel.

“Captain Torin, you will take your vessel to these coordinates,” Wilnas said, and relayed the data. “When you reach the security station there, dock at the off-loading bay. There your ship will be boarded, and you will be questioned.”

“Why do they want that?” Xonea murmured, and then signaled back with, “Sentinel, I am happy to answer any questions you have now.”

No reply came over the channel, and a moment later the patrol ship terminated the relay.

Xonea eyed the display. “This could be a ploy to capture us.”

“They will not fire on you unless you ignore an order or attack them,” Jylyj said. “They prefer to avoid violence with offworlders.”

“Then why have they enabled their weapons?” Xonea countered.

Jylyj glanced at the display. “The oKiaf avoid violence, Captain, but from outsiders they have come to expect it. They are preparing for the worst.”

“If reporting to this security station is standard procedure,” my husband said, “Uorwlan will confirm it.”

My ClanBrother nodded. “Send a signal to the trader. Do not encrypt it; they will be monitoring everything we do, and we do not want to appear secretive.”

Reever went to the com officer’s console and sent the signal. The trader responded soon after that.

“The oKiaf maintain security stations at four points along their system grid,” Uorwlan said. “All ships entering the system are required to first dock at the nearest station for inspection. You needn’t be concerned about it, old friend. They will ask a lot of questions and inspect every part of the ship, but they wish only to see for themselves if you are telling the truth.”

The signal was audio only, so I couldn’t see the trader’s face, but the voice sounded soft and beguiling, as if they were discussing something far more personal and intimate.

“How long before you reach us?” Reever asked the trader.

“We’ve had some engine problems, so we won’t be there until tomorrow.” Uorwlan said something else in a language that the ship’s translator did not recognize, and then terminated the relay.

“What did that last part mean?” Xonea wanted to know.

Reever gave him a bland look. “Nothing but a farewell.”

Xonea was almost convinced by Uorwlan’s reassurances, but still performed a remote scan of the security station. The results showed it to be an artificial satellite, three times the size of the Sunlace, with an array of powerful defensive weaponry, ten docking bays, and a small fleet of patrol vessels.

“It seems an excessive amount of security to guard a planet of primitives,” Xonea said as he contemplated the scans.

“In the past both the League and the Faction have occupied this system,” Reever said, “and Skart was destroyed by the Hsktskt. If that happened in your sole w size="3">My ClanBrother’s expression darkened. “I wouldn’t bother to board or question unexpected arrivals.” He looked at my husband. “This trader’s information, you are sure it is reliable?”

Reever nodded. “I freed Uorwlan and a dozen other Takgiba from slavery. She is bound to me by a life debt. She would not lie or lead us into a trap.”

She. So this Uorwlan was female, knew my husband well, and owed him her life. Already I didn’t like her. Still, what Reever had done in the past was of little concern to me, and the life debt practically guaranteed the Takgiba’s loyalty.

“I agree with Duncan,” I told Xonea. “We should go to the station.”

The two patrol ships escorted the Sunlace to the oKiaf station, where Xonea performed another remote scan before maneuvering alongside the dock. Only when our engines were powered down did the patrol ships depart.

Reever and I accompanied Xonea to meet the boarding party. The oKiaf sent a group of ten armed security officers along with four station supervisors to inspect the ship. At the boarding platform airlock, Jylyj pulled me aside.

“oKiaf females are not permitted to serve in the defense forces or leave the homeworld,” he said.“Males are not accustomed to dealing with women in official capacities, and your presence here may cause discomfort.”

I shrugged. “I rarely make anyone feel comfortable.”

“Know that the males will not address you directly, and they will be offended if you speak to them,” he warned. “They may even ask that you be removed. If that happens, do not object. It is not personal.”

“An Iisleg female who does not obey a male is usually beaten, often until she dies,” I told him. “I think I will tolerate being sent from the room.”

After arranging crew escorts for the oKiaf security detachment to take them around the ship, Xonea invited the station supervisors into a nearby conference room.

Reever sat on my right, and Jylyj on my left. The resident drew almost as much attention as my husband and I did, and was the first person the oKiaf in charge of the boarding party spoke to.

“I had not expected to meet one of those lost to us,” Colonel Pegreas said to Jylyj. He ducked his nose down and twisted his head to the right and left before raising his eyes. “You are very welcome here, brother.”

The resident bowed his head in a similar fashion. “This son of Rushan is grateful to have made the journey, Colonel.”

“We have heard your people have endured much living among the outsiders.” Pegreas spared Reever a dark glance. “It is hoped that you are being treated fairly by these outsiders.”

“I am.” Jylyj touched the front of his tunic. “They have provided work, shelter, and kinship. I have no complaints, but much praise for their kindness to me.”

Pegreas seemed to relax a little. “What of your people, Brother?”

“The faithful were briefly deceived by false prophets, but were saved by allies on K-2,” Jylyj told him. “The sons of Rushan could not remain on the colony there, but the aquatics offered sanctuary on one of their moons.”

“So it is true. We had heard rumors, of course, but given the nature of that world . . .” Pegreas shook his shaggy head, causing some of the beads woven in his silver mane to clink togen my left these strangers? To escape that wet horror?”

“I have answered my calling,” Jylyj said flatly. “That is all you need know.”

The colonel seemed a little taken aback by the resident’s tone, and for a moment I thought Jylyj had offended him. But Pegreas recovered quickly and inclined his head.

“As you speak, Brother, so I hear.” He turned to give Xonea a far less friendly look. “We have had some limited but favorable contact with Jorenians in the past.Your people also broke with the League before the war. Those are the only reasons I permitted you to come here.”

“We are grateful for your consideration, Colonel,” Xonea said. “Our mission is an important one, and the data we collect here may save many lives on other worlds.”

Pegreas didn’t seem impressed. “You mission means nothing to the oKiaf. We no longer concern ourselves with what happens outside our borders.”

“If this black crystal has infected any of the worlds in your system, it will poison your species and possibly cause mass extinction in the future,” Xonea said. “I would think that to be of great concern to the oKiaf.”

“How do we know you are not attempting to mine the crystal for use by the Allied League as a weapon?” Salanas, one of the other supervisors, demanded. A smaller, darker male, he had sharp teeth and eyes so light and cold they seemed made of alloy.

Xonea kept his tone calm and reasonable. “Our ship is not equipped as an ore hauler, and we have no treaty with the League.”

“Your people have served on their ships.” Salanas gestured toward me and Reever. “You even brought two of them with you.”

“You are mistaken,” Xonea said. “Jarn and Duncan are citizens of Joren, not the League.” He turned to Pegreas. “You have had contact with our people. You must know that we have never been warmongers or invaders. One of our ClanLeaders, Teulon Jado, negotiated the terms of peace that ended the war between the League and the Hsktskt.”

“After the League massacred his kin and sold him to slavers,” Pegreas replied, evidently unmoved. “While Joren is famous for its neutrality, we know that the Jorenians have never been a particularly forgiving people. How do you explain the Jado’s actions?”

Salanas sniffed. “They smell to me of cowardice.”

Xonea’s eyes narrowed, but it was Jylyj who said, “Perhaps you have had your nose buried too long in your own affairs.”

Salanas’s expression turned to one of astonishment, and again Pegreas gave the resident a startled look.

“I am Jarn of Akkabarr, and I served the Iisleg as a battlefield surgeon during the rebellion,” I said before the oKiaf could respond or anyone could stop me. “Raktar Teulon was my general.”

“There,” Salanas said, making a rude gesture toward me. “He favors females. Is that not indicative of his own character?”

“When our rebels prevailed over the Toskald, Teulon had the means to wipe out their civilization and send thousands of ships against the League and the Hsktskt armies,” I told the supervisor. “He set aside the revenge he wanted—and surely deserved—and sought instead to bring peace to all the worlds involved in the conflict.” I regarded Salanas. “Tw that a thorough planetary survey in just three days, with one team on the planet and the Sunlace kept under guard here?”

“I would suggest you do it quickly,” Xonea said, his mouth hitching.

“What they said does not make sense.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Why prohibit all offworlders from visiting oKia if their dispute is with only members of the League?”

“The League frequently uses alterforms to infiltrate hostile or dangerous species,” Jylyj said, startling me. “Doubtless they have encountered them in the past.”

“Pegreas will not let us near oKia unless we accept his conditions,” Reever said. “I suggest we do so. Xonea, scan as much of the surface as you can from here. I’ll take a remote transceiver down to the planet and contact Uorwlan from there. The oKiaf trust her and her crew; perhaps she can help us negotiate for better terms and more time.”

“Captain, with your permission, I will go and speak alone with Colonel Pegreas,” Jylyj said. “He is sympathetic to my people, and I may be able to ease some of his fears.”

Xonea nodded. “Do what you can, but do it swiftly. If I have judged the length of their days correctly, the survey team must leave for oKia in four hours.”

Nine

I went with Reever to the survey lab to retrieve the equipment we would need on the planet and to check the black crystal. Qonja was waiting for us, and for once had a little good news—or so I thought at first.

“The growth rate of the matrix has decreased dramatically over the last hour,” the Jorenian told us. “The amount of fluid in the center inclusion has tripled, and the surfaces are showing distinct flaws. It’s almost as if entering oKiaf space has in some way damaged it.”

I went over to the plas chamber with Reever. The crystal no longer glittered, but looked old and cracked. The hollow space in the center of the shaft had bubbled outward toward the crystal’s surfaces, and the cloudy liquid inside seemed to be moving in a sluggish swirl.

Reever scanned the container. “The atomic structure is losing cohesion.”

“Hydrated silicates contain water in channel intersections,” Qonja said. “The fluid is only minimally bound in the crystal matrix and can be leeched from it through interstices. Perhaps it is the same with the black crystal.”

“Such water inclusions don’t destroy the structure of the crystal when they are expelled or replaced,” Reever said. “The black crystal is not acting like a zeolite molecular sieve.” He gave it a thoughtful look. “It may be cannibalizing itself.”

“What would make it do that?” As far as I knew, nothing had changed except the position of the ship. “Are we being exposed to some form of radiation unique to this part of space?”

“None that registered on our sensor arrays,” Qonja answered. “If the deterioration continues, in a few days all that will be in that container is a puddle of black sludge.”

I saw Reever frown, and asked Qonja if he would go and help Jylyj and Hawk prepare for the jaunt down to the planet. When we were alone, I touched my husband’s arm. “What is it?”

“I don’t think it’s degenerating,” he said satrix has>“No, it’s not that.” He gave me a searching look. “You remembered.”

“Remembered what?”

“The day I took you from the field.”

“It was the first time I ever saw you fly.” My belly tightened, and then I understood his reaction. “No. Forgive me, I misspoke. It was the first time Cherijo saw you fly. You and I did not meet until some years later.”

Hawk didn’t let it go. “Jarn, can you see that day in your memory?”

I could, although I didn’t want to admit it. Then I seemed to slip into a trance. “It was very bright. There were people, so many people, screaming at me. I stood on strange grass and held a silver sphere, the shockball, between my hands. It had been rigged to kill Duncan.” I looked up at him. “By my brother.”

He nodded slowly.

“You jumped from the top of the place, and your wings ripped your garment apart, and you flew down to me.” I pressed a hand against my head, which now felt as if I were whirling around in a fast circle. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Hawk grabbed me to keep me from falling, and helped me over to the disposal unit. He supported me with one arm and held my hair back as I vomited. When I had emptied my belly, he wiped my face clean. “I will call for Herea.”

“No.” I took the cloth from him and wiped the tears from my eyes before I blew my nose. “Duncan saw it from the field. He gave me the memory of it. That is how I know.” I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Sometimes it is difficult to think of myself as two people. Forgive me, Hawk.”

“Don’t apologize.” He seemed afraid of me now. “Jarn, are you sure you should go on this jaunt? No one would object if you chose to stay behind and rest.”

“Do you know what Cherijo would say to that?” My smile twisted. “I do. She wrote it in her journals: ‘I can rest when I’m dead.’ This, when she knew she was made so that she might live forever.”

“I think she knew she would not. Perhaps that was why she fought so hard to save the lives of others.” Hawk touched my cheek. “As you do. None of us know how much time we have left. Does Duncan know about these shared memories?”

“No.” I felt stricken. “Hawk, please don’t tell Duncan about this. Not now.”

“I won’t, if you will agree to tell him when the expedition is over.” I nodded quickly. “One more thing.” Hawk removed one of his bead necklaces and hung it around my neck. “Wear this for me.”

“It is beautiful.” I looked at the small, gray-blue stones, and saw streaks of other colors glimmering in them.

“The beads are made of Terran moonstone,” Hawk said. “My grandfather believed the gods cast them down to earth whenever it rained, to remind us that we cannot have rainbows without a storm.” He picked up our packs. “Now come. The others are waiting for us.”

I tucked the beads under the collar of my tunic, where the cool weight of them lay against my aching heart.

The Elphian did not allow us to take one of the Sunlace ’s launches to the planet, but flew us there on a station shuttle. The vessel had been built to transport more cargo than passengers, but our seats allowed us to see a little through one small vrders are to leave your team near the Parrak erchepel,” the pilot said. “Theirs is one of the oldest settlements in the region, and their chieftain, Dnoc, once served as a city administrator. He will deal fairly with you.”

I glanced at Jylyj. Such generosity seemed odd, especially after Pegreas and his men had shown such hostility and resistance toward us. What had the Skartesh done to convince the Elphian supervisor to make so many concessions?

The station shuttle landed on a wide, flat plateau that sloped down an incline to a series of terraced stone shelves that reminded me of the steps leading up to the main hall at HouseClan Torin’s pavilion. The shuttle pilot engaged the cabin’s biodecon controls, effectively decontaminating all of us before he opened the hull doors.

Dry, cold air immediately swept in to fill the cabin. My cheeks and nose chilled, my eyes teared, and still I could have groaned with pleasure. As lovely as the warm, perfumed air of Joren was, I had missed the cold.

Jylyj stopped each of us to check the native garments and footgear we had changed into before boarding the shuttle. He adjusted the belt of twisted strips of hide that cinched in the waist of my long shirt, moving the knotted ends to rest on my hip.

“You should take down your hair,” he suggested. “It will make you look more like the women of the tribe.”

“The wind out there will knot it more tightly that this belt.” I sighed and removed the clip, and then remembered how I had once woven the heavy length into cables. That would keep it from becoming tangled. “Are oKiaf females permitted to braid their hair?”

“They are, although you should wear it in a single braid.” He tugged on one strand in a teasing fashion. “Wearing two means that you seek a mate.”

I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing playful there. He stood too close now, and when I glanced down I saw him winding a piece of my hair around his claws.

This had to stop. “I have a mate,” I told him, and tugged my hair free.

“I will braid it for you,” my husband said, stepping between us. “Jylyj, Hawk needs assistance with his leggings.”

I watched the Skartesh reluctantly move away, and saw Reever’s eyes had turned dark. “What is it?”

He leaned close as if he meant to kiss my cheek, and said in a low voice, “I don’t like the way he looks at you, or touches you.”

An ensleg female would have likely taken offense, but I only felt relief. “Neither do I. I am trying to discourage his interest. Perhaps you can assist me with that.”

Reever nodded and glanced over at the other members of the team before moving around me and lifting my hair with his hands. Deftly, he divided it into three parts. “I would rather be alone with you to do this.”

Duncan’s fascination with my hair and his love of grooming me had become an integral part of our intimate times, and I smiled to myself. “Someone will have to unbraid it later.”

My husband wove a loose braid before tying it off at the end. As he adjusted the back of my collar, his fingers touched the necklace of beads Hawk had given to me to wear. “This is one of Hawk’s prayer necklaces.”

“He gave it to me to wear for good luck,” I said, uneasy now. “I could not refuse such a gift from a friend.”

“No, you canever’on’t want you out of my reach while we are on this world.”

I had no intention of straying far from his side, but the harsh note in his voice made me look up at him. “Don’t worry, Osepeke. Everything will go well.”

It was only after we left the shuttle that I wondered what sort of prayer went along with Hawk’s necklace.

Following the directions relayed to us by the shuttle pilot, we left the plateau and walked down the stepped incline until we reached a crude path winding out of sight among a thicket of trees. I had seen trees before, both on Joren and in the images from some of the stories Reever downloaded to Marel’s reading pad, but these did not resemble any of those.

Each tree had exposed root systems that rose from the dark red soil and formed precise right angles to the trunks, of which there were a minimum of three for each tree. The trunks themselves soared high above our heads, where they divided and spread out in formed branches covered with bunches of thick, dark purple leaves and long, oval seed pods.

“These are heartwood,” Jylyj said, touching one of the trunks. “The tribes use them for kiafta supports and to sustain the cooking fires. They burn very slowly.”

On Akkabarr we burned methane in our heatarcs, so the thought of setting a tree on fire seemed bizarre to me. “What are kiafta?”

“Temporary shelters the oKiaf dwell in on the land.” Jylyj sniffed the air and pointed toward the path. “The erchepel lies in that direction, on the other side of the thicket. I will go ahead and present myself to the men on watch.” He trotted along the path until he disappeared into the trees.

We followed the path at a more sedate pace, keeping alert as we made our way through the thicket. In addition to the heartwood trees, I saw many other types of plant life, from orange and green pools of frilled spikes to dense thatches of pale green shoots, the ends of which were adorned with cup-shaped blooms filled like servers with green liquid.

Reever tried to name some of them for me, but even he stopped and stared at one plant, a single wide pad of blue from which sprouted hundreds of tiny white berries. He scanned the berries before picking one and sniffing it.

“What does this remind you of?” he asked, holding it to my nose.

I breathed in. The scent of the berry was unexpectedly dark and rich, and reminded me of my favorite Terran beverage. “Coffee.”

“According to my readings, they’re safe for us to consume. If they taste as good as they smell, we should be able to steep them.” He gathered several handfuls and placed them in the pouch he wore on his belt.

The heartwood trees thinned, and then we passed through the last of them and into an open clearing. I stopped as soon as I saw Jylyj on his knees in front of two native males. He held his paws behind his back and his head bowed, which alarmed me until one of the males spotted us and said something.

Jylyj rose, turned, and walked back to us. “They have sent for the chieftain, who is out hunting,” he said as soon as he had rejoined us. “Until he arrives, we will be taken to a place of safety.”

“We are not in any danger, are we?” Qonja asked, reaching unconsciously for Hawk’s hand.

“They are concerned with the tribe’s safety,. He heldnd stone pots hung from simple frames steepled over the coals. Thin, pale pink smoke rose from the burning heartwood, and colored the cold air with the faintly sharp but not unpleasant scent of hot resin.

I couldn’t see what the tribeswomen tending the pots were cooking, but I saw one of them toss a handful of dried stalks into a pot and stir them into the contents.

Our guards stopped at an area marked off from the rest of the encampment by rows of dark stones, and enclosed by a three-sided lattice covered with the pink and green vines. A plain hide with the center cut away covered the area. I saw the reason for the hole when I spied the small fire that had been built beneath it. Around the fire were large, hide-covered, flat stones that appeared to be seats of some sort.

“This is where we are to wait for the chieftain,” Jylyj said. “Remain here. As your scout, I have to first inspect it to ensure that it is suitable.”

I watched the Skartesh as he walked inside the structure and made a circle around the fire. He knelt and sniffed at the ground several times, and then straightened and looked above at the interior of the hide. Only then did he gesture for us to join him.

I didn’t have to look at the tribesmen to see their approval. Obviously, these rituals were important to them, and by observing them Jylyj showed both knowledge and respect.

The fire kept the interior space quite warm despite the open-sided lattices. Acting on instinct, I waited for the men to sit down around the fire before I joined my husband.

“Put your hand on the top of her head,” Jylyj said to Reever. “It shows approval and possession.”

Duncan stroked the crown of my hair. “I could become used to this.”

“So could I.” I resisted the urge to cuddle up against him, and glanced at the Skartesh. “How long do you think we’ll be kept here?”

“The men on watch sent runners for the chieftain. Hunting parties never go farther than a two-hour run.” He glanced up through the smoke hole to study the sky. “They should return by midday.”

I noticed Hawk kept looking back at the encampment through the entrance to the enclosure, his expression intensely curious. “Are the people here like the Native American tribes on Terra?” I asked him.

“As some of them were in ancient times, yes,” he said. “The tribe lives literally off the land, in harmony with nature. The animals they hunt feed the people, while their hides make shelters and clothing.” He turned to Jylyj. “They do not cut down the trees for firewood, do they?”

The Skartesh shook his head. “It is against custom to harm living trees, so the firemakers take only fallen or dead trees, and cure them in seasoning racks. The custom is practical, too, as fresh heartwood doesn’t burn very well.”

Hawk nodded thoughtfully. “Tribal customs usually come about as a response to some aspect of the environment. The ancient Hebrews on Terra had very strict laws forbidding the consumption of certain meats. Centuries later, scientists discovered that parasites dangerous to humans commonly infected the prohibited animals.”

The sound of a polite cough distracted me, and I watched a tribeswoman enter the enclosure. She moved in a curious hunched fashion, holding her head down and cradling a ba the other female and shaking my head slightly to indicate that I didn’t understand her words.

Trewa picked up a twig, moved back, and began scratching marks in the red soil. She drew five figures, an oval shape, and a triangle before she looked at me expectantly.

Hawk studied the drawing. “Our survey team, what might be a ship, and one of their dwellings, I think.”

“The triad seems to be a very important symbol to them,” Qonja observed. “If you noticed when we were brought in, everything in the encampment is grouped in threes.” Another tribesman, one we had not seen before, came inside the enclosure and spoke to Trewa. She nodded, ducking her head as she rose. The male gestured for us to do the same.

Trewa stayed with us and walked beside me until we stopped before the three largest kiafta in the encampment. With another shy look she unwrapped from her arm a coil of square green beads interspersed with short slivers of pale, smooth wood and pressed them into my hand before hurrying off.

The tribesman made a motion indicating we should wait, unfastened part of the kiafta’s hide covering, and stepped inside. A moment later, Jylyj appeared.

“This is the chieftain’s place, which he shares only with his mate and his children,” he said in a low voice. “It is a great compliment to be invited here. It seems we have impressed the tribe with our manners.”

“Should I wait outside?” I asked.

He shook his head. “The chieftain is particularly interested in you, Healer. Just stay by your husband.”

We followed him into the dark interior of the shelter.

Given the oKiaf’s nomadic culture, I did not expect to see any sort of furnishings. While the inside of the kiafta was not crowded, there were large stones arranged to serve as a table, seats, and what I thought were sleeping platforms.

I wondered why the oKiaf would bother to use such heavy objects for furnishings when I saw the bases of the stones, which were weathered by time and use and stood deeply embedded in the soil. From the way it looked, I imagined that the stones had been used by many generations of oKiaf and left in place. Each chieftain must have come to this same place and erected his shelter over the stones.

Reever stood at the back of the kiafta, partly shadowed by a draped piece of hide. Next to him the chieftain, a tall and proud-looking oKiaf, stood in silence. They didn’t look at us.

“Sit here.” Jylyj indicated a row of seating stones, and stopped Hawk from sitting beside me. “That is Reever’s place.”

Hawk nodded and moved down the row. I sat and looked at the ornament Trewa had given me so I wouldn’t be tempted to stare at the chieftain.

“That is a renatak,” Jylyj said. “Did one of the women give it to you?”

I nodded. “The female who brought the food. Should I wear it?”

“Yes. I will show you.” Jylyj uncoiled the length of beads and wound it around my wrist, turning it one way and then another until the coils hugged my arm.

“Why did she give it to me?” I asked as I admired it.

“It is a fertility object,” Jylyj said. “She wishes you to become pregnant.” At my wide-eyed look, he added, “Being with child gives the female higher status amo object,”aid, “Your words honor me. I thank you.”

Once Jylyj had translated that into oKiaf for the chieftain, Dnoc grunted and gave my face a fond pat before standing. He called out, and a moment later three tribesmen appeared.

As Dnoc spoke to his men, Jylyj said, “They are taking us to the kiafta reserved for special guests. We are to eat and rest until the night fires.”

When we emerged from the chieftain’s personal kiafta, the crowd of oKiaf waiting outside surprised me. I had thought the tribe would continue to keep their distance until word that we had been made welcome by their leader had been passed around the encampment.

Then there was their unnerving interest. Hawk and Qonja should have received the most attention, as they were the most exotic-looking members of the team, but everyone seemed to be staring at me.

I held on to Reever’s hand. “Why are they looking at me like that?” I murmured to him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But whatever happens, stay close to me.”

One young male stepped boldly in front of us, stopping us in our tracks. He moved past Jylyj, Qonja, and Hawk and approached me. I studied his pale gray pelt and the many scarification marks he had on his arms before I realized I was staring. I quickly ducked my head and bit my lip, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

The male went down on his hands and knees as he sniffed at my footgear and leggings. He did the same to the front of my long shirt, rising slowly until he loomed over me. He bent to sniff my hair, his breath blowing some of it over my eyes.

Reever pushed me behind him and uttered a few words in oKiaf. At the same time, Jylyj moved in and bumped his shoulder into the young male’s as he said something in a challenging tone.

The young male stepped back, looked me over one more time, and then rejoined a group of males. They cuffed him on the arms and chest and talked very fast.

“It’s all right,” Jylyj said. “Some of the younger men of the tribe like to test certain boundaries. It’s usually tolerated unless it gets out of hand.” He turned to my husband. “How did you know what to say?”

“I absorbed some of their language during my contact with Dnoc.” Reever scanned the faces watching us before giving the Skartesh a flat, unfriendly look. “I hope I made my meaning clear.”

“You have,” Jylyj said.

I had the feeling they weren’t talking about the young tribesman anymore.

“I’m getting a little hungry,” I said to my husband. “Jylyj, will they bring our packs to the guest shelter? We need our rations.”

The Skartesh nodded and turned to speak to one of our escorts.

Reever gripped my hand a little more firmly. “Nicely done,” he murmured.

“I think enough challenges and meanings have been dealt with for one day,” I said. “And, as it happens, I am hungry.”

I slowed my steps as we walked past the large central cooking pit to look in some of the pots and see what the tribeswomen were preparing. Thick, rich-looking stews filled about half of the pots, but others were covered with leaves. I saw one female uncovering a pot, and watched as she used two short-handled,ly. “Nicemales as they do.”

“What you call subjugation is in truth a biological imperative,” Jylyj said. “oKiaf females produce a large amount of hormones that cause them to be naturally timid. It often suppresses their survival instincts, and they will not defend themselves, no matter what opposition or danger they face. The males of the species also make a generous supply of a similar hormone, only the effect it has on them drives them to be very aggressive and dominating, particularly toward females. The oKiaf culture evolved as a result.”

“Is the same true of the Skartesh?” I asked. When the resident gave me a surprised look, I added, “You have to admit, you have displayed some of the same male characteristics.”

“Our glandular systems are slightly different, but it’s believed that the oKiaf and the Skartesh are the dece dents of one species. I will try not to be too aggressive or dominating.” He sounded stiff now, as if I had offended him. “The fire gathering will begin as soon as the sky is dark. You should rest while you have the chance.” He disappeared into the smallest kiafta.

“May I accompany you inside your shelter?” Hawk asked.

Still bewildered by Jylyj’s reaction to my observation, I nodded, and led him into the kiafta.

Some of the same stone furnishings we had seen in the chieftain’s shelter occupied the interior, but these did not appear as old or worn. A long hide mat stuffed with what sounded like dried plant material lined the stone sleeping platform, as well as a coverlet of very soft golden fur. I ran my fingers over the beautifully worked pelt and felt some small bumps, and parted the hairs to find more of the carved wood slivers. Each one had been carefully sewn to the underlying hide and then concealed under the fur.

“Those are likely talismans,” Hawk said, examining my find. “All people are vulnerable when they sleep, so they’re probably protective charms.”

“Or fertility symbols, to help a female conceive.” I drew back the coverlet and sat down on the mat, which was comfortable without being too soft. “The longer I am here, the more I like this world.”

“So do I, but there is something that troubles me.” Hawk went to close the hide over the entry before he came to sit beside me. “Jarn, Jylyj knows a great deal about the oKiaf.”

I nodded. “He has been very helpful. We probably wouldn’t have done as well with Dnoc without his advice.”

“That is what I thought, until he spoke of their mating practices, and how accepting they are of those like me and Qonja.” Hawk stroked his hand over the pelt coverlet in an absent fashion. “Such matters are part of the private lives of the tribe. On Joren, you never hear the people speak of how Choosing is forbidden to those of the same gender—especially with offworlders.”

I had to agree with him; if Reever had not told me I would have never known about the taboo. “Do you think what he told us is wrong?”

“It is not what he said, exactly. We have heard him speak to the oKiaf, and they understand him completely. He gave us their words for the different relationships within the tribe—very personal, private words. He also knew that litaerel couples adopt orphaned children because they cannot reproduce naturally. For an offworlder who has only visited this world a few times, he knows so very much.” Hawk made an uneasy gesture. “Too much, I think.”

I considered what he had said. “We don’t ibe—veryeir language, so his visits had to be of some duration. When you consider how much importance the oKiaf give to ritual matters, it may be that he studied their culture extensively before he even came here.”

“It worries me, Jarn,” Hawk persisted. “Jylyj is not merely knowledgeable about the oKiaf. He is practically an expert. You know how carefully the League prepares their intelligence operatives.”

“I had my own suspicions, and went so far as to perform a DNA test on him,” I admitted. “Jylyj’s genes are pure Skartesh.”

“Then he cannot be a League spy sent to sabotage the mission.” The crossbreed Terran gave me a rueful look. “Qonja says my imagination does run away with itself sometimes.”

“We should ask him about how he learned so much,” I said. “I’m sure he can explain everything.”

“Yes.” Jylyj stepped through a slit in the hide opposite the entry. “I think I will start with how easy it is to hear what is being said in a nearby kiafta.”

Hawk moved quickly to his feet and his wings spread out, one curling over my head. “I apologize for any offense my words have caused,” he said, “but they were not meant for your ears.”

“Such words are generally the most offensive.” Jylyj gazed down at me. “You might have asked me to take the DNA test voluntarily, Healer Jarn. I would not have refused you.”

I felt miserable. “Hawk, would you allow me to speak with Jylyj alone?”

The crossbreed didn’t seem happy, but he nodded and left the shelter.

“Is this wise?” Jylyj asked. “If I am a League spy, I might take this opportunity to sabotage the mission.”

I didn’t like the way he was snarling at me. “You must not have been listening too closely, or you would have heard me defending you to Hawk.”

“You trust me only because I have the proper genes. Forgive me if I am not overwhelmed by your confidence.” He moved as if to leave, and then turned back to me. “I do know much about oKia. For many years I have done nothing but dream about someday returning again to live among the tribes. But I am not one of the people, and my calling has assured that I never will be. Is there anything more you want to know? Ask me.”

“There is one thing.” I stood. “Can you stop shouting at me before Qonja comes in here and declares you his ClanKill?”

“In truth, I have no HouseClan,” Qonja said as he stepped in through the other side entrance. His dark blue claws gleamed. “That simply means I can gut anyone I wish, whenever I like.”

“So it would seem.” Jylyj gave the Jorenian a measuring look. “Your pardon, Healer Jarn. I should not have spoken in anger to you.”

“I think you had some cause, but I accept.” I glanced at Qonja. “I shield Jylyj.”

“Yes, of course you do.” The Jorenian sighed his disappointment and retracted his claws. “Three females are waiting outside with food. They are becoming terrified. I suggest we invite them in before we frighten them off for good.”

Eleven

By the time I had neatly arranged on the table the baskets of food the tribeswomen had brought, Reever returned with oid that would have made me, Reever, and possibly Hawk very ill. I set those aside and asked Jylyj if he would mention to the tribeswomen that we could not eat them.

The Skartesh remained in a silent, sullen mood, but nodded and gathered a portion of the food before retreating to his kiafta. Qonja and Hawk did the same, leaving me alone with Reever.

He gave me a wary look. “Something happened while I was gone.”

“These hide shelters make it easy to eavesdrop on one’s neighbors,” I said. “Jylyj heard me speaking with Hawk about him. He became angry. Qonja threatened to gut him. I protected him. It’s over and done with.”

Reever’s mouth twisted and he put his arms around me. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes.”

“Of course you can. I have my case now, and the next time something like this happens, I’ll sedate everyone.” I went to the table. “Come, sit down and eat. Were you able to contact your friend?”

“It took some time, but I finally established a secure relay with Uorwlan’s ship,” he told me, walking over to inspect the native foods. “She passed along some new information about the mercenary offering the bounty on us.”

I retrieved some pouches of water from our packs. “How would she know that?”

“All of the traders in this region have been receiving regular signals from mercenaries and bounty hunters requesting information about us,” my husband said as he sat down and sorted through a basket of nuts. “Uorwlan convinced one she has crewed with to tell her what he knows. It seems the bounty is being offered by a wealthy Terran with friends among the League. The Terran has been using some of their transports as lookouts.”

As we ate, I thought of the League general responsible for the Jado Massacre and Cherijo’s abduction from Oenrall. “You don’t think Colonel Shropana is the one hunting us?”

Reever shook his head. “Shropana isn’t Terran, and he’s too afraid of what Teulon Jado might do if he crosses us again.” He gazed down at the pieces of meat I offered him. “We have synpro rations in the packs.”

“We did not kill these animals,” I informed him. “The tribe did. It’s very good. At least try it.”

His expression turned cold. “You’ve already eaten some of it.”

“One of the women offered me a taste. I saw no harm in it.” I felt exasperated with him. “Duncan, using animals for food is no different than eating plants. Both are alive. Both must die to sustain the life of another.”

“Plants do not have minds,” he pointed out. “Animals do.”

“I wouldn’t say that to a Psyoran.” I saw that he wasn’t going to change his mind. “I suppose you don’t want me to eat it, either.” He gave me a pointed look, and I set aside the meat. “Oh, very well. I will eat only mindless plants and the synpro from the rations—and I will be very cranky about it, too.”

He covered my hand with his. “Thank you.”

We finished our meal while discussing the information Uorwlan had offered. We once more considered and discarded the idea that the bounty was being offered by Alek Davidov. Even if he had returned to the quadrant, he had known we were oneded. “But Cherijo was created on Terra, and her father must have kept some records about his experiments on her. If they were discovered after his death, they might have motivated another researcher to offer the bounty.”

“You said what was done to make Cherijo was illegal,” I pointed out. “That her creator even had laws written so that no one else would be permitted to experiment on humans, while he did so in secret.”

“Times and laws change,” Reever said. “Especially when the secrets of immortality are involved.”

Something occurred to me. “What if they are not looking for Cherijo? What if they are looking for you?”

His eyebrows rose. “I am useful to them only as a tool to manipulate you.”

“Joseph Grey Veil had time only to experiment on you before he died,” I said. “If what he injected in you was all he had, then the chameleon cells in your body are the only ones in existence. They might have discovered that fact among his records.”

“Squilyp said the cells remain dormant until some damage or illness occurs.” Reever rubbed the spot on his chest where a drone on Vtaga had stabbed him. “In that state, they can’t be distinguished from my body’s natural cells. They wouldn’t be able to find them to extract them.”

My arm twinged, reminding me of what had happened to Cherijo when the Hsktskt had tried to brand her with a slave identification. “They could if they first tortured you.”

Both of us had little appetite after that, so I packed away the food and performed a quick survey of our packs to ensure that none of our equipment or supplies had been removed. As I was separating what I would need for the next day’s trek, Reever inspected the inside of the kiafta, and retrieved a piece of hide that had been left under the sleeping platform. He brought it to the table and began studying the many symbols embedded in the fur.

“The oKiaf use a modified form of pictographs as their written language,” he told me. “Each symbol is representative of a concept rather than literal translation of a spoken word.”

I noticed the three-sided symbol repeated over and over on the hide. “Qonja said the triangle symbol must be important to them. He called it a triad, and noticed that they also group many things in the encampment in threes.”

“Trinities or triads are common in many primitive belief systems,” my husband said. “They are usually represented by a central deity, a representative of the common people, and an intermediary figure. On Terra, the cult of Christianity worshipped a paternal God, his half-human son, and a Holy Spirit. The Jorenians hold sacred the Mother of All Houses, Tarek Varena, and the path they forged together.” He glanced at me. “You rarely speak of Iisleg beliefs.”

“Dævena is the goddess of women, and Kette is the god of men,” I told him. “The people do not worship them together, and there are other, minor gods, but Dævena and Kette are the two central deities. I suppose the vral represent an intermediary. They were believed to be sent by both gods to reward courage by restoring the brave to life.”

Reever eyed me. “I have no faith, Jarn, but I would not deny you your beliefs.”

“The skela, miserable as they were, insisted that Dævena watched over them. I saw no evidence of that, but it was simpler to go along with what they believed.” I shrugged. “Fy alould not see how giving her my food would make my life better, especially when I was hungry.”

My husband took one of the recording units we had brought to take images and measurements, and took several images of the symbols on the hide. He then isolated the images of the symbols themselves and wired a wristcom to the device.

“Do you think the translator will read them for you?” I asked, amused.

“No, but it will download into the unit’s memory every corresponding pictograph in the translator’s database. Not all languages are spoken, and some symbols are almost universal.” He adjusted some of the settings, put the results on the image display, and began to read. “It has matched seven symbols: tribe, promise, stranger, three, one, death, eternity.”

A chill inched over my skin. “Is it some sort of death threat to strangers?”

Reever consulted the hide. “The symbol for death is not connected to the one for the strangers. It’s imprinted beside the eternity symbol. They are the only two that appear together.”

“Death equals eternity?” I guessed.

He rubbed his chin. “That, or eternity dies.”

Reever continued to work on decoding and translating the hide symbols while I prepared a medical report of what little I had observed regarding the health of the tribe. By the time I finished, I was surprised to discover that Reever had made little progress.

“It could be a prayer,” he said. “The tribe promises to find or nurture or safeguard strangers, and in return the triad will ensure that time or the world or the universe does not end.”

“Jylyj can’t read their language, but he can ask what it means,” I suggested. “Why don’t we bring it to the gathering?”

“The hide was deliberately concealed,” Reever said. “If the tribe sees that we have removed it without asking permission, it may be considered a serious discourtesy.” He placed the hide back under the stone platform. “Many of the same symbols are etched into the kiafta hides. I can ask Jylyj to obtain a translation of some of them.”

We took a few minutes to change into the thicker, warmer garments the Elphian had given us to wear at night. Reever also brushed out and rebraided my hair, and knotted his own at the back in Jorenian warrior fashion. When we stepped outside into the cold twilight, Qonja and Hawk also emerged.

The Jorenian, accustomed to a much warmer climate, visibly shivered. “I can see why the tribe gathers around a fire at night.”

Hawk went to Jylyj’s kiafta and called out to him, then looked inside before returning. “He’s not there.”

I felt a twinge of guilt. Had my conversation with Hawk offended the Skartesh to the point that he would avoid us? “Perhaps he went ahead.”

“Why would I do that?” Jylyj appeared out of nowhere, his dark eyes glittering. “Come. They are waiting.”

We followed him to the center cooking pit, which had been cleared of pots and piled high with seasoned heartwood. The flames were already climbing up the sides of the stacks and blazing brightly; I felt the heat on my face from twenty paces away.

The tribe had assembled around the point of each spiral in the fire stones, most of the females sitting with their children on hides stretched over the ground while the men stood or moved fredelibe then caught the quieter murmur of the women as they spoke to the children.

All of the tribespeople fell silent as soon as they spotted us approaching, until the only sound I heard was the crackling of the fire.

Jylyj led us to a place between two spirals where an unadorned hide had been placed, and indicated that I should sit. Reever stood behind me as I sat down, tucking my legs to the side as the tribeswomen did.

A rather noisy procession from the chieftain’s kiafta distracted everyone, and I watched as several men in elaborately arranged furs led the chieftain to three large stones used to shape a low platform. Rather than sit on them, Dnoc gestured for the older female following him to sit down, and then strode up to the fire, casting what appeared to be a handful of soil into the flames. It must have been something else, for it caused a wide plume of fragrant purple smoke to billow up toward the sky.

Dnoc began to gesture and speak, and Jylyj again translated his words for us.

“We offer our thanks for another bountiful day, and our hopes for a peaceful night. The people are one with the land, and the land nourishes and protects the people. We ask for blessings on our women and our children, and good weather and luck for our hunters. For the respectful strangers who have come to us, we ask your care and guidance.”

Dnoc ended his short speech by tossing another substance onto the flames that this time produced a sizzling burst of golden sparks. This seemed to signal the end of the formalities, for the tribesmen began moving around and speaking among themselves, while the women retreated briefly into the shadows before they returned bearing baskets and platters of food, which they spread out on the hides.

Several of the women brought food over to us, and shyly handed each offering to me. I thanked each female using the words in oKiaf that Jylyj had taught me, which seemed to please them.

After helping themselves to the food their mothers had set out, the tribe’s children all left their family groups and gathered around an elderly male, who shook out a hide and attached the carved wooden rings sewn to its upper corners to two of the prong weapons that had been driven into the ground. I watched, fascinated by the firelight that played over the fur, which seemed to shimmer with its own light.

“May we go closer to the old one?” Reever asked Jylyj, who nodded. My husband held out his hand to me, and helped me up from the hide before we followed Jylyj.

We stayed at the edge of the group of children, some of whom gave us curious glances before turning their attention to the elderly male. From here I could see that the symbols rubbed into the hide had been also painted with different colored pigments that contained tiny particles of a reflective material.

“The old male is one of the tribe’s storytellers,” Jylyj said. “Everything he says is also recorded on the hide. This is how they teach the young ones to understand it.”

“What story is he telling tonight?” Reever asked.

“Chetere’s loneliness.”

The name seemed familiar to me, although I didn’t know why. “What does Chetere mean?”

Jylyj thought for a moment. “The name is difficult to translate, as it is a person and a thing and a state of being. Outsiders who have heard the story ofteont size="3">“We should go and introduce ourselves,” the Skartesh said. “The first to meet travelers are always any other travelers in the encampment.”

We walked around the fire, and as soon as Dnoc saw us, he gestured for us to join them. Five of the travelers pulled back their hoods, revealing oKiaf faces, but the sixth and tallest of the group remained cloaked.

“Does the chieftain know what a troublemaker you are, Duncan?” the tall one called out in flawless Terran. “I can tell him, if you like.”

My husband’s expression softened, and he released my hand to go to the stranger. They curled one arm around each other’s neck in a curious embrace before the tall one shrugged out of the cloak.

The traveler was not oKiaf, but a member of some feline species, and had a long, narrow head covered in short black-and-white fur. I guessed her to be Uorwlan, Reever’s trader friend, although she wore the native dress of a male, adapted to accommodate an intricate weapons harness that crisscrossed her torso and hips. An astonishing amount of silver ornaments with glittering clear blue gems hung from her neck. Her eyes, much larger and more slanted than the oKiaf’s, matched the gems in color and brilliance.

To my eyes she looked rather a starving, dirty jlorra, but Jylyj and every other male around me seemed to be staring at her with great admiration.

“Where is this Jarn you’ve told me of?” the feline woman asked. “I want to meet the female who convinced you to take her to wife.”

I considered that an invitation, and walked over to stand at my husband’s side.

“My wife, Jarn,” Reever told the female. He looked down at me. “This is my friend, Uorwlan.”

“I am happy to know you,” I said, and made the Jorenians’ polite gesture of welcome. “Do you know you’re wearing the garments of a male?”

“She has good eyes.” The Takgiba’s piercing blue gaze shifted down and then up as Uorwlan inspected me. “But Terrans are usually larger, are they not? Is she a child, or a runt?”

“I am an adult, but I was made in a machine,” I told her before Duncan could answer. “Evidently, there wasn’t much room in it.”

“So it would seem.” Uorwlan’s thin white lips peeled back from sharp-looking teeth in a faint snarl. “I’ve tried to learn that Jorenian hand-speak, but it made my wrists sore.” Without warning, she bent and slung her arm around my neck. “Good to meet you, little sister.”

I returned the embrace, feeling awkward but determined to make Duncan’s friend feel welcome.

Uorwlan straightened, cuffed me under my chin, and eyed Jylyj, Qonja, and Hawk. “Are these your other husbands?”

I smothered a laugh and shook my head as I performed the introductions. The Takgiba gave each man the same rough embrace before addressing Reever.

“I thought I’d come down to the planet and see how you were fairing,” she said. “I trade with all the tribes in this region; Dnoc and I are old friends. He thinks I’m a male, by the way, so don’t wreck my hunting privileges by telling him otherwise. I’ve no taste for cooking and scraping the ground with my nose.”

That explained her choice of garments. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

I pulled one of my own blades and held it ready. “Not anymore.”

“Perhaps I should go and sleep with Qonja and Hawk,” Reever said as he stepped between us and with two blurred motions took the blades from our hands. He looked at Uorwlan. “You are my friend, but Jarn is my wife, and I love her. You will respect that and our bond.” He turned to me. “And you, Wife. You will calm down and not provoke Uorwlan any further.”

“Provoke her?” I echoed, outraged. “She drew the first blade. You wish me to stand by the next time she loses her temper and let her stab me?”

Reever’s eyes darkened. “I wish you to leave her alone, Jarn.”

“If you are finished arguing,” Jylyj said from outside the side entry to the shelter, “we have been summoned to meet with the master hunter.”

Twelve

The frigid air nipped at my hot cheeks and curled around my clenched fists as I stepped outside. The encampment had obviously settled in for the night, for I saw only a few males walking around the outside of the shelters farthest from the fire pit. Like the men on watch who had met us earlier that day, they carried the pronged weapons, but each also held a small torch of flaming heartwood, which they used to illuminate their path.

I wanted one of those torches. I could see myself accidentally dropping it on Uorwlan’s twitching tail. Or my husarreling between a male and female extremely distasteful,” Jylyj said. “They regard it on the same level as relieving yourself in the open.”

I glared at him. “Yes, of course. We wouldn’t wish to piss on the ground in front of anyone.”

There was no more time for him to say anything, for we had arrived at the master hunter’s kiafta. Jylyj called out a soft-voiced greeting, and the entry hide was opened to admit us.

The master hunter’s family already occupied their sleeping platforms, and the older male paused to tuck a fur around the smallest child before turning to greet us. He wore few ornaments in his mane, and had heavily scarred arms and paws that bore mute testimony to his experience.

“This is Seno,” Jylyj said. “He has hunted this land for many years, and knows of a place that may be of interest to us.”

Seno retrieved a piece of hide from a bundle stowed to one side of the table. He spread it out flat and, using a blackened twig, began to sketch what appeared to be a crude map. He pointed to each area as he drew it and spoke to Jylyj, who translated.

“From the encampment, we must walk north approximately five kim, and take the pass between two cliffs for another two.” He listened for a moment to the master hunter. “The place beyond the cliffs is the tribe’s burial grounds, so we can’t go any farther than that. He says there are shining stones lining the gaps in the ground at the base of the east cliff. From his description, the stones are some sort of crystalline mineral.”

Reever studied the map and then said something in oKiaf to Seno. The master hunter gave him a confused look in return.

“He doesn’t understand what you mean,” Jylyj told him. “The oKiaf don’t acknowledge things like illness, old age, or dying.”

“I used the same words the storyteller did tonight at the fire,” my husband said. “You should know; you interpreted them for us.”

“The myth of the Star Wolf is just a children’s tale,” the Skartesh said. “What happened to the first one is not what the people believe happen to them.”

Now I felt bewildered. “You’re saying that the tribe doesn’t believe they get sick or die?”

“It’s not the words they use,” Jylyj insisted. “The cycle of life for the oKiaf is very specific: whelping, weaning, learning, mating, teaching, passing, and flowing. Those are the only states of being that they recognize for themselves.”

“What is flowing?” Reever asked.

“I suppose it’s the afterlife,” Jylyj said. “After life leaves the body, it flows into the bellies of the stars, to nourish them.”

“Hunting cultures often have such pragmatic beliefs about an afterlife,” Reever said. “I find it interesting, and somewhat bizarre, that the oKiaf mythos is so similar to that of the Jorenians, who believe they are embraced by the stars.”

“It is not that unusual to find cultures who share almost identical beliefs,” the Skartesh said. “Before the HouseClans were formed, the indigenous beings on Joren were, like the oKiaf, tribal hunter-gatherers.”

Seno folded the hide and offered it to Reever, who thanked him in oKiaf for it before we left the kiafta.

As we walked back to our shelter, I noticed that the storyteller’s hide had not yet been rake down the hide. “I will stay and help him carry this back to his kiafta. You should go and sleep now. The guide will be ready to leave the encampment at dawn.”

Reever remained very quiet as we walked back to the shelters, so much so that I stopped him just before we entered. The cold air enclosed us in its frigid stillness, and our breaths formed thick white puffs as we looked at each other.

“I am sorry that I lost my temper earlier,” I said. “I’ll try to get along with your friend.”

“It is not that.” He touched my arm. “We can’t talk out here. Come inside.”

We found Uorwlan sitting at the table and cleaning her weapons. She gave me a sideways glance. “Here, little sister.” She offered me one of her finest daggers. “I apologize for goading you. I am happy that Reever has taken a w3">“Is this the way into his shelter?” Uorwlan asked, pointing to the side entry. When I nodded, she unfastened it.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“I mean to see if this Skartesh knows how to properly warm a female,” she said, “and if he talks in his sleep.” Her tail shivered as she stepped through and vanished.

“She will get herself beaten,” I muttered, waiting to hear Jylyj shout at the Takgiba, but hearing nothing at all. Then a faint growling sound came from the direction of the Skartesh’s shelter, answered and soothed to a rumble by a higher, more feminine purr.

“It would seem Jylyj found better things to do than beat her,” Reever said.

I turned my back toward the side entry, absently blocking out the sounds. On Akkabarr there had been little privacy, so I had learned early on to offer it by ignoring the sights and sounds of things that were not meant to be shared with others. But even as I chose not to hear them, I still didn’t like Uorwlan coupling with Jylyj.

“She is reckless,” I whispered to my husband.

“No, she is in season,” Reever murmured. “That is why she drew a blade on you. The females of her kind fight for mating privileges.”

That made her strange behavior seem more logical, and explained why she had wanted to couple with me and Reever the moment we were alone. Still, after what my husband had said about Jylyj and the deceptive translations, I worried. “You are sure she will be all right with him?”

“Uorwlan can take care of herself,” he assured me, and tugged on my hand. “Now, come to bed, Wife, and let me warm you.”

Sometime later I lay curled up beside Duncan and listened to him breathe. No more sounds came from Jylyj’s shelter, and I heard only the occasional footsteps of the men on watch patrolling the encampment as they passed near our kiafta.

In my mind I saw the three symbols enclosed by the dark circle on the storyteller’s hide, and thought of what Reever had told me about the triads of different cultures. They didn’t seem to fit with the universal God-man-intermediary belief, for the figure of the silver man had stood between the white and black stars. There had also been something odd about the way the symbols had been rendered; they had been simply made, and not intricately adorned like those around them depicting the Star Wolf story.

White like new snow, black like the endless void . . . and a being who stood between them.

It nagged at me, in the same way a half-forgotten word sat on the tongue, waiting to be fully remembered and spoken. Would my former self know what to make of the symbols? Did she know something that I did not?

As I puzzled over the symbols, I finally began to drift off. I swayed between consciousness and sleep, though, neither here nor there, too aware of my surroundings to be completely at ease, but too tired to force myself to keep watch.

A dream came to me, as swift and silent as a raider, and took me from the kiafta and through a labyrinth of shadows until I found myself back on Trellus. I walked through the winding labyrinth of collected objects that Swap had cemented together into his highly unusual art.

Yes. Now show us where.

I retreated ched mine through one of the flaws. “So will we fight for you.”

Blackness.

I sat up, my body shaking, my skin slick with sweat. The icy air inside the shelter tried to freeze it and my tear-streaked face. I looked over and saw Reever was still sleeping, and slipped out of the blankets, taking care not to let the cold get under them.

I left the shelter and walked out into the frigid night. The sky above the encampment stretched wide and dark blue; the thin atmosphere made the stars seem enormous.

I went to the fire pit, the flames of which had died down to a glowing pile of scarlet embers, and sat on the edge of the still-warm stones to wait for the dawn.

Thirteen

Just before the sun rose, I returned to the kiafta and woke Reever, who prepared a quick meal while I read ied what we would need to take on the trek.

“Here.” He placed a bowl of cooked grain on the stone table, and then winced. “Can you give me an analgesic? I can’t seem to get rid of this headache.”

“Of course.” I retrieved a syrinpress and, after scanning him to ensure that the pain was not from another cause, administered the drug. “What brought this on?”

“I think the smoke from the cooking fires,” he said. “The smell of burning meat does not have pleasant associations for me.”

Qonja and Hawk soon joined us, as did Uorwlan, who seemed much more relaxed and happy. Of Jylyj I saw nothing until he arrived with Seno’s guide, an experienced scout who said little and seemed impatient to leave.

As she played a male in front of the oKiaf, Uorwlan couldn’t show much affection to the Skartesh. Still, she hovered around him and used any excuse to touch him. For the most part Jylyj ignored her, although once or twice I caught him giving her a faintly exasperated look.

With the guide at the front, we left the encampment and traveled north, using another old path through the groves of heartwood. The air began to warm a little as we emerged from the trees into a narrow clearing around the base of the two facing cliffs, both of which were so tall that I nearly had to bend backward to see their snow-covered tops. Beyond them the mountains stood like worn monuments, each forming an uneven procession that never ended but disappeared over the horizon.

The guide halted at the entrance to the cliff pass and spoke in a low voice to Jylyj, who nodded and turned to Reever.

“The scout says that stones sometimes fall from the sides of the cliffs in the summer season,” the Skartesh told my husband. “We must move quickly now, but if you hear stone cracking, go to the face of the cliffs and stay there.”

The guide increased his pace to a trot, and I held on to the straps of my pack as I tried to keep up. My short legs had to take two strides to match one of the others’, and by the time we emerged from the pass my face and longshirt were damp with sweat.

A secluded valley stretched out before us, the red soil completely covered by reedlike amber grass with three-sided seed heads. Here and there I saw the broad-leafed blue plants the base’s burial ground?” Reever asked. The Skartesh nodded. My husband said something to the guide, who didn’t seem to understand him. To Jylyj, Reever said, “Ask him where the graves are, so that we won’t walk over them.”

“There are no graves,” the Skartesh said after conferring with the guide. “I believe they bring the bodies of the dead here and leave them on the ground to decompose naturally.”

“Then the place should be littered with bones,” I said.

“It feels as if it is.” Uorwlan looked about and wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t see any remains. Do you hear that humming?”

Reever listened and then looked down. “No, but I can feel something in the ground.” He took out a scanner and used it, turning in a slow circle. “There is something vibrating under the soil.”

“We should try to signal the Sunlace,” Qonja said. “We told the captain we would relay our status every morning.”

I glanced at the guide. “We agreed not to use our equipment in front of the natives.”

“Seno said the exposed deposit of shining stones was somewhere over there,” Jylyj said, pointing to one side of the cliffs. “I will go with the scout and see if we can locate it. While we are gone, send your signal.”

The oKiaf and the Skartesh walked off, while Reever set down his pack and took out the small transceiver. After calibrating it several times, he was able to send off a brief signal. No reply came, however, and after a few moments he switched off the unit.

“Whatever is moving under the ground is also causing relay interference.” He handed out scanners to Qonja, Hawk, and Uorwlan. “Walk along the perimeter of the meadow and see what you can detect.”

Reever and I walked carefully through the amber reed grass. While I looked for any signs of oKiaf remains, he scanned the surface.

“There are enormous deposits of a crystalline mineral under the soil,” my husband said.

I caught my breath. “Black crystal?”

“No. It has far more benign readings—more like a form of quartz. I’m reading tons of it here.”

We walked on, but after a few more meters, he stopped me.

“Don’t go any farther. There are large subsurface faults filled with liquid all around us. The ground may collapse under us.”

He knelt down and placed the end of a sampling probe into the soil, and watched it disappear as it burrowed into the ground. Then we retreated a safe distance.

“Could it be graves?” I asked.

“No. The liquid isn’t decompositional. It appeared to be mineral.” He watched the scanner display as the probe began transmitting a vid of its progress. The red soil in front of it fell away, and the probe dropped into a void half-filled with a pool of what looked like water.

The probe didn’t sink but instead floated on the top of the fluid. All around it the liquid began to bloom with strange, feathery shapes, as if the probe’s presence had caused some sort of reaction. As we watched, the feathery shapes solidified into three-sided crystalline shafts.

Memories of being trapped in a pit made of a clear crystal rushed into my mind. “It looks like the Pel.” The senr, and had even helped her and Reever liberate Catopsa.

“I thought the same thing, but it isn’t the Pel,” my husband said. “The liquid is some form of protocrystal, but unlike anything in the database.”

The crystal growth increased at an alarming rate, until it replaced all of the liquid I could see in the void. “Why is it solidifying so fast?”

“Perhaps coming in contact with the probe’s alloy housing caused a chemical reaction.” Reever sighed as the vid from the probe grew blurry and then disappeared. “That must be what’s causing the transceiver to malfunction. The probe has stopped transmitting, too.”

We met with the rest of the team back at the edge of the meadow and compared readings.

“This entire valley is honeycombed with deposits of solid and liquid crystal,” Reever said after checking the others’ scanners. “In some places the soil barely covers it.”

“This place makes my fur stand on end,” Uorwlan said. “It’s making my head ache, too. We should get out of here.”

The guide appeared without Jylyj and began speaking to Reever, gesturing toward the area where he and the Skartesh had gone. I looked over but couldn’t see the resident.

“Wait.” Reever took hold of the oKiaf’s arm and concentrated. After a few moments he released him. “Jylyj slipped away from the guide. He says he went into the forbidden area.” He spoke to the oKiaf, who argued with him briefly before gesturing toward the tree line. “He’ll track him. He says we have to follow in his footsteps or we could be killed.”

“By what?” To me, the meadow appeared completely deserted.

“I don’t know,” Reever admitted, “but he’s terrified, and not just for himself.”

We followed the guide in a single-file line as he skirted the meadow and approached the trees. As we passed the cliff face, I saw a section of rock that had fallen away, and the glitter of crystal shining through the jagged dark red stone.

The heartwood trees at the edge of the meadow grew so thick that the trunks proved an effective barrier all on their own. The guide found a gap large enough for us to squeeze through, but held us back and gave Reever a terse set of instructions.

“We have to leave our packs here,” he said. Once we had placed everything on the ground, the guide reluctantly led us into the thicket.

We had gone only a short distance before the trees ended and another, smaller clearing appeared, shadowed by an outcropping of red stone that seemed to hang over it like a protective roof. The guide stopped at the edge, scanned the area, and then went still. Backing away, he turned and issued sharp orders to Reever.

“He says we have to go back to the encampment,” my husband translated. He then spoke in oKiaf to the guide, who made a violent gesture. “He won’t allow us to go any farther.”

I heard a faint sound coming from behind the guide’s back, and moved to the side to have another look. From this angle I could see a large open pit in the ground. I also heard the sound of a man groaning. “I hear him. Jylyj is in there.”

When I tried to go past the guide, he grabbed my arms and pushed me back.

“Hed began shouting at him.

I didn’t waste any more time, but dodged around the guide and ran into the clearing. Under my feet the ground seemed to shift, collapsing in places the way ice did during the thaw after winter. I moved fast, jumping over the voids that began to form in front of me until I made it to the edge of the pit.

When I looked down, the glitter of crystal hurt my eyes. There, in the center of the pit, lay Jylyj, his body impaled on dozens of crystal shafts.

Later, I would wonder why I did as I did at that moment. I would go over it a thousand times and still not know what made me act. But when I saw Jylyj, his body bleeding from dozens of wounds, I stopped thinking and jumped into the pit.

I landed on my feet after the three-meter drop, but the sharp points of the crystal apexes didn’t penetrate my footgear. Instead, they shattered under the impact of my landing as if made of thin ice. Above my head I heard shouts, but only bent over the Skartesh, working my fingers under his mane to check his pulse.

His dark eyes opened. “Leave me and go.”

“I’d be happy to, but I don’t think I can jump back out,” I said. I lifted my head and called out, “He’s fallen onto some crystal but he’s still alive. I need my pack, something to cut him free, and some ropes so we can lift him out of here.”

“You can never free me,” Jylyj said. “Leave me here, Jarn. It is the only way for me.”

Something was glowing under his shirt, and I ripped it open to see two golden streaks in his fur, both giving off a cool white light. My eyes widened as the crystal shafts that had stabbed through his body turned white with the light from the marks in his fur, and then began shrinking back into the wounds they had inflicted. As Reever appeared above us at the edge of the pit, the shafts disappeared, and Jylyj’s body collapsed against the now-flat bottom.

“Jarn.”When I looked up, Reever tossed my pack down to me. I caught it neatly. “How badly is he injured?”

I looked at the wounds on the Skartesh’s chest, which were also shrinking. “I don’t know, but he’s lost a lot of blood. Duncan, we have to get him out of here now.”

My husband nodded. “Qonja and Hawk are rigging some ropes to the trees. Tie him to you, and we’ll pull you both out.”

While I waited for the ropes, I took a syrinpress from my pack and administered a painkiller. The Skartesh opened his eyes as soon as he felt the infusion and glared at me.

“You’re wasting your drugs.” He ducked his head and looked down at the glowing marks on his fur. “Look at this. Look at what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done? I only jumped in here.” I took his vital signs, which were weak but steady. “You seem to be doing all the healing yourself.” When he said nothing, I added, “Is this why your patients recover so quickly? Are you some sort of touch healer?”

He made a disgusted sound and closed his eyes.

By the time Reever lowered the ends of two ropes, Jylyj had fallen unconscious. I turned him on his side and worked the rope under his arms and then lay down and faced him as I wrapped it around me, pullan hauling us up from the bottom of the pit. On the way up, Jylyj groaned a few times but never regained consciousness, and when Reever reached in to take my outstretched hand, my longshirt and leggings were soaked with Skartesh blood.

Reever cut the ropes, and Qonja and Hawk lifted Jylyj between them.

“Take him,” my husband said. “Quickly.”

I was about to warn them about the treacherous ground when I saw all the collapsed areas were filled with pools of a white liquid. I turned my head and saw the pit was filling with the same.

“Duncan,” Uorwlan called out. She sounded scared. “Move it.”

I looked down and saw the liquid crystal erupting through the soil, spreading and covering and solidifying over everything it touched. Reever lifted me off my feet, held me against his chest, and ran for the trees. He jumped over a stream of the liquid crystal, just clearing it before we were in the shelter of the trees. I looked over his shoulder and saw shafts sprouting up like plants.

The guide nearly ripped my husband’s sleeve as he pulled us away from the clearing. With a final look, Duncan turned and carried me through the grove.

When we reached the meadow, the guide reluctantly allowed us to stop and catch our breath. Reever put me on my feet, and I opened my pack as I went to where Qonja and Hawk had laid Jylyj on the ground.

I scanned him three times and then pulled back his garments to see the wounds for myself. No longer bleeding or open, they were all now thick scars. As I touched one, I felt it softening and watched it disappear into his flesh. Tiny hairs began to grow, covering the new skin.

I glanced up at my husband. “He heals like I do.”

“Maggie once told Cherijo that her people had made others like her,” Reever said, his voice tight. “He must be one of them.”

Uorwlan loomed over the Skartesh. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”

I realized that she and the others hadn’t seen Jylyj impaled on the crystals as I had, and debated for a moment on what to tell her. If the Skartesh had been created to be like me, he had probably gone to great lengths to conceal it.

“He has some internal injuries and he’s lost a great deal of blood,” I said at last. I’d only brought the most basic medical supplies with me; half of my equipment remained in the shelter. “We have to get back to the encampment. If I can’t cross-match a donor from the oKiaf, we’ll have to evacuate him to the ship.”

“That’s going to be difficult,” Reever said. “When I went after you, I dropped my pack. It fell into one of the holes in the clearing. The crystal engulfed it before I could retrieve it.”

“I have one back at camp,” Uorwlan said. “You can use it to signal your people.”

The guide called to Reever as he dragged several branches from the thicket.

“He says we can make a litter to carry him,” my husband said. “Uorwlan, get three of those blue broad-leaf plants. Qonja, Hawk, gather some strong vines.” He glanced at me. “What do you need?”

“A hospital.” I checked Jylyj’s pulse, which remained weak. “He seems to be holding on, but hurry.”

The guide and Reever stripped the branches of theire her,” Rs together with vines at the cross sections. The guide punched holes with a dagger through the tough edges of the broad-leafed blue plants and lashed them across the frame, creating a supporting surface for Jylyj’s body. Uorwlan reinforced it by volunteering her cloak, which Reever draped over the frame before the men brought the makeshift litter over to me.

I showed them how to lift him, and then secured his body to the frame with pieces of the rope. Qonja and Hawk lifted one end of the frame, and Reever and the guide the other. When I would have moved to the front to lead them toward the pass, Uorwlan shook her head.

“I’ll take up the lead,” she said, and pointed to the Skartesh. “You stay beside him.”

We moved as fast as we could, but carrying Jylyj slowed the men, and the trek back to the encampment took twice as long. Several tribesmen ran out as soon as we were spotted by the watch, and helped carry Jylyj to our kiafta.

“Put him on the platform,” I said as I went to retrieve my supplies from the packs. When one of the tribesmen seized my arm, I glared at him. “Let go of me.”

He spoke to me in a sharp voice and gestured toward Jylyj, but released me as soon as Reever came over to us.

“They’re angry. The guide told them Jylyj entered the forbidden area, and—in his words—woke up the crystal. To them, that is an unforgivable offense.” My husband then spoke at length to the tribesman, who seemed to calm a little but spoke sharply again before he strode out.

“What are they going to do?”

“Nothing. You can treat him.” Reever rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “We have to leave, though, first thing in the morning.”

“We have to leave as soon as Uorwlan can signal the Sunlace,” I said as I went over to the platform. “I need to move him to the medical bay as soon as possible.”

“They won’t allow Uorwlan to use her transceiver,” my husband said. “They’re contacting the Elphian to come and remove all of us from the planet.”

My first priority was to examine Jylyj properly, so I drafted Hawk to serve as my assistant as I cut off the Skartesh’s garments and began the visual assessment. On the outside of his body I found patches of short, newly grown fur, the only indications of where he had been impaled on the crystal, and counted twenty-eight separate wounds—all of which were healed over as if they had never happened.

I scanned his internal organs, from the top of his head to the pads of his paws, and found only a few traces of cellular disturbance. From the locations, Jylyj had suffered life-threatening penetrating injuries to both lungs, his heart, liver, spleen, and one of his four kidneys, as well as a rupture of his stomach and complete severing of his intestines in five different places.

From the extent of the injuries, he should have died almost instantly after jumping into that pit, and yet he had only a few lingering bruises and a mild inflammation of the abdomen, as if he had just recovered from a minor case of gastric infection instead of what had to have been a terminal-level peritoneal infection.

His remarkable ability to heal had not yet compensated for his blood loss, however, and as I ran the hematology scan, I found the expected drop in his white and red blood cell count. He had lost a little over half of his blood supply; in a normal being that would call for an immediate transfusion. But while the blood loss kd only after I gave him my word, reluctantly went to join Qonja in their shelter.

When I was alone with the Skartesh, I sat on the ground beside the platform and rested my head back against the edge of the grass-stuffed cushion. I didn’t tell Hawk that if Jylyj’s condition didn’t soon improve he would likely be helping me transport a corpse in the morning. I turned my head to look at the monitors, and saw my patient watching me, his eyelids opened only to slits.

“We’re back at the encampment,” I told him. “Your wounds have healed.”

“Not all,” he whispered, his voice a thin thread of pain. “Why save me?”

Had he jumped into that crystal pit in hopes of killing himself? “I never learned how to let someone die. Did they teach you that in medical school?”

“No. Learned it before.” He lifted a paw and touched my hair, threading the blunt ends of his claws through the strands. “Never met another like me. Thought I was alone.”

Suddenly, I understood many things. “Why didn’t you tell me? Of all people, I would have understood.”

“Angry. Afraid. The League . . . alterforming . . .” He drifted off for a moment, and then jerked back awake. “Jarn, after . . . destroy my body. Please.”

He was afraid of the League, afraid of being discovered—and terrified of what they would do with his body. I had never considered what would happen if immortal DNA was used to alterform a normal being. Was that to be my fate?

“I will.” I pressed my hand over his paw. “I promise.”

Fourteen

Reever returned alone, and after refusing the food Trewa had brought, sat with me to watch over Jylyj. I told him about the Skartesh’s brief period of consciousness, and what he had asked of me. Reever agreed that if Xonea couldn’t get to us in time and we lost Jylyj, that we would at the first opportunity send his body into the oKiaf’s sun.

“I don’t understand why he’s dying,” my husband said. “Cherijo explained most of the bioengineering that had been done to her, and from what she said she couldn’t bleed to death. Even if she sustained hundreds of wounds, her blood always clotted within a few seconds. If he is like her—like you—he should have done the same.”

“Something interfered with Jylyj’s immune response,” I said. “Perhaps the crystal impaling his body. Now something is preventing his bone marrow from producing replacement cells. I’ve scanned him a dozen times, but I can’t detect anything responsible for it. Here, see for yourself.” I handed him the scanner I had been using on the Skartesh.

Reever skimmed through the readings I had taken. “This is calibrated to read the body’s cells and other organic substances. Can you adjust it to scan for crystal?”

“I don’t have to; it picks up trace minerals, as well,” I said, frowning as I took back the device and isolated those readings. Normally, I wouldn’t have paid any attention to the minute amounts of minerals that were present in any living being’s body, not unless some heavy metal contamination or poisoning was suspected. I scrolled through the list and found a sizeable amount of one mineral had been detected in the bloodstream.

The scanner, whiof it as it healed.” Cursing myself for making such a stupid assumption, I recalibrated the scanner. “I need to see the readings you took in the meadow today.”

My husband retrieved the scanner he had used to detect the underground deposits of protocrystal, and handed it to me. I compared the compositional readings and swore again.

“His body didn’t reject the crystal,” I said. “It absorbed it.”

I ran another complete scan of Jylyj’s body and looked at the mineral display. In the hour since I had performed my previous scan, the amount of liquid protocrystal in his bloodstream had increased by two percent.

“It’s still circulating through his body.” I felt like throwing the scanner across the room. “And that’s not all. It’s growing.”

Reever glanced down at the Skartesh. “Can it be removed?”

“I might be able to filter it out with dialysis, or a complete replacement transfusion.” I tried to think, but all I could see was how the liquid crystal had consumed the clearing in a matter of seconds. “Did you hear anything from Uorwlan’s pilot? Is Xonea coming for us?”

“The pilot was able to transmit a brief relay. He’ll arrive in a few hours and land outside the encampment. If the oKiaf will release us to him, he’ll transport us back to the station.”

The tribe and the primitive conditions in which they lived no longer charmed me.

“Why do these people live like this?” I said, dragging a hand over my hot face. “They have no doctors, no proper medical facilities. Even on Akkabarr we had healers, and all the medicines and supplies we could salvage from the wrecks.”

“He’s as strong as you are,” Reever said. “He’ll keep fighting it.”

If he didn’t turn into a chunk of crystal before the shuttle arrived. I thought of the heartwood trees, and how the crystal had stopped growing at the tree line. “Do you still have the litter we used to carry Jylyj into the camp?”

My husband gestured toward the entry flap. “It’s just outside.”

“I need one of the heartwood branches from the frame.” If I could discover what substance in the trees repelled the crystal, I might be able to synthesize an agent that would stop it from spreading, or even help flush it out of his bloodstream.

After a brief conversation with the guards, Reever brought back a short branch from the litter. I cut a sliver from the raw end and placed it in the analyzer. The results surprised me.

“It looks like wood on the inside, but it’s mostly made of hardened resin.” I felt bemused. “This branch is dead, and the resin is almost fossilized. No wonder it takes forever to burn.”

The analyzer began listing the elements and compounds it detected in the resin, all of which appeared ordinary: oxygen, nitrogen, carbon, hydrogen, and so forth. Then the display showed a trace of an alloy, Cu^2Au, which apparently accounted for the color of the wood.

“This tree absorbs two metals, copper and gold, from the ground,” I said. “They combine into an alloy that is not present in the soil.”

“Gold is harmless, but copper in large amounts can be poisonous to many living thingur naturally in the soil, it could be the deterrent we’re looking for.” I went to the platform and used a probe to draw a few drops of blood from Jylyj, placing them in a vial and scanning them to confirm the presence of the protocrystal. As I did, Jylyj’s blood began to crystallize.

Quickly, I extracted a sample of the Cu^2Au alloy from the heartwood resin, and added it to the vial of blood. The crystallized blood instantly liquefied.

I scanned it. “The alloy dissolved the crystal. It’s reverted to its liquid phase.” I monitored the sample for a few minutes. “The crystal isn’t growing. It’s gone inert.”

“That may explain why the tribe uses so much wood to adorn themselves,” Reever said. “Their luck carvings may be protocrystal repellent.” He tapped the bracelet I wore. “That may be what saved your life in the pit.”

I paced back and forth as I thought it out. “I can’t inject him with a copper alloy. He’s not a tree; even a small amount would kill him.” I studied my bracelet, and the gleaming slivers of wood between the green beads. “I have an idea.”

Convincing the guard to send for Trewa took Reever some time, but eventually he brought the oKiaf woman to our shelter. With Reever as my interpreter, I told her about Jylyj’s condition in simple terms, and asked for her help.

She stared at the Skartesh for a long time before she replied.

“She says he is being punished for waking the crystal,” my husband translated. “But because we’re strangers, and we didn’t know what would happen, she doesn’t believe he deserves to die. She will go to the other women in the encampment and collect what she can.”

Trewa left us, and I began putting together the equipment I needed. I couldn’t build a complete dialysis unit from scratch, but with some tubing, an empty IV unit, and parts of an infuser, I was able to put together a crude, portable version of one.

Trewa returned with a basket of the tiny heartwood carvings the women used for their ornaments, and Reever scanned them.

“They all contain traces of the Cu^2Au alloy,” he confirmed.

“Bring them here.” I could only fit the smallest of the carvings into the empty IV unit, but there were enough to fill it halfway. Once I evacuated the air from the lines, I inserted the needle at one end into the radial artery in Jylyj’s right arm, and the needle at the other into the artery in his left. Once I enabled the infuser port, which I had rewired to work in reverse, it began drawing the Skartesh’s blood into the line attached to his right arm.

I watched his blood travel up to the IV unit, where it began to drip over the heartwood carvings inside the bag, and then fed down into the line that ran to his left arm.

It seemed to take longer than it did. I kept running a continuous scan on the amount of protocrystal in his blood supply. Gradually, the growth rate slowed, and then finally stabilized.

“It’s working.” I looked up at Trewa and nodded. “Tell her that she has saved his life.”

As my husband translated, Trewa touched the moonstone necklace I had given her. She replied in a soft voice, gesturing to the Skartesh and then gently cuffing my left shoulder.

“Trewa claims no one has ever survived going into the forbidden places,” my husband told me. “She says Jylyj livd day, and light and the darkness, and all that has been divided from what it was. The crystal healer brings the Star Wolf back to life, and together they re-create the tribe from the dreams they share with each other.”

“It sounds like a lovely romance,” I joked.

“It is why the oKiaf have never objected to the mataerel or litaerel,” the Skartesh said. “It has always been believed that the Crystal Healer and the Star Wolf were both males.”

I chuckled. “Well, I am very flattered, but obviously I am not a male, and I don’t think I can suture day and night back together.”

“If you try, I want to assist.” He coughed and closed his eyes.

Uorwlan’s shuttle had landed in the same clearing the station pilot had left us, and while small, the vessel appeared well-armed.

“Are you expecting trouble?” I asked the Takgiba as I nodded toward the oversized pulse emitters mounted on three sides of the hull.

“A girl can’t be too careful, especially when she hauls cargo.” Uorwlan stopped as the door panels opened and a loading ramp extended. “Linag, did you leave the ship on auto?”

“I couldn’t say no, Captain.” The pilot’s fearful eyes darted toward the shuttle. “They held a rifle to my head. They said they’d kill me if I didn’t.”

A group of men in battle armor poured out of the shuttle. All of them carried pulse rifles, which they trained on us.

“Who the hell are you?” Uorwlan shouted.

One of the men fired at the ground in front of her, and then raised his weapon and targeted her face. “Shut up and get on board. All of you. Now.”

“Mercenaries?” Uncaring of the threat, the Takgiba turned to her pilot. “You let mercenaries hijack my shuttle?”

I felt air sweep over my back as Hawk took off. Some of the men fired at him, but he flew too fast for them to bring him down. A moment later he disappeared around the side of the mountain.

I reached for my blades, but Reever put his hand on my wrist and shook his head.

“Too many to fight,” he murmured. “Do as they say.”

We were marched onto the shuttle and herded in the back cargo area, where one of the mercenaries confiscated our weapons. Another reached down and yanked the needles out of Jylyj’s arms, then pushed him off the litter in order to remove that.

“Stop it.” I rushed over to the Skartesh. “He’s badly injured. He needs that IV.” I tried to grab it back, but the mercenary hit me so hard I fell to the deck. When he drew his foot back to kick me, Reever came at him and knocked him across the hold.

“Back away,” the other mercenary said, shoving the end of his rifle into my husband’s belly when Reever kept advancing toward the semiconscious merc. “Back away, or I’ll cut you in half.”

“Duncan, he’ll do it.” Uorwlan hauled Reever by the arm over to me. “Take care of your wife.” She turned to the mercenary, who was helping his dazed companion get to his feet. “What do you want? Cargo? Credits? Let’s work this out and no one has to get hur/div>

I abandoned my attempt to bargain for our release. “Let me accompany you to medical, and I’ll show you the process I used.”

“It will have to be after he is questioned.” Without listening to any more of my protests, the medical officer and the guards took Jylyj and left us locked in the chamber.

“Come here,” Reever said as soon as we were alone, and took me in his arms as if to comfort me, and established a link. They are monitoring us; I count five drones embedded in the light emitters and the furnishings. He slipped one hand between us and passed one of the daggers he kept in his leggings to me. When they come for us, I’m going to insist we be taken together. Don’t try to run, but go along with them. As soon as I see an opportunity to escape, I’ll disable the guards.

Try not to kill them. I quickly tucked the blade into my belt. What about Qonja and Uorwlan?

He’ll look after her until we can come back for them or find a way to have them released. He smoothed the disheveled hair away from my face. How long can Jylyj live without the blood treatment?

I can only guess. I rested my cheek against his shoulder. Maybe another day or two.

Reever kissed my brow. Then we have to take him with us.

The oKiaf monitoring us saw us only sit together in silence as if comforting each other. Through our link, however, we discussed everything we had seen during the transport from the launch bay to the holding chamber, and what might be the best route out of the underground city.

By the time we had put together a tentative plan of escape, the guards came for us.

Rather than being taken to an interrogation chamber, Reever and I were led outside the building to one of the storage structures surrounding it. There the Valtas’s commander stood watching two subordinates and several drones stock shelves with boxes of new rations. He turned as soon as he heard our approach.

“Leave us,” he said to the guards. When they withdrew, he turned to Reever and gestured toward a stone path. “Walk with me.”

I didn’t like being treated like a guest, not when it had been made so obvious that we weren’t. “Why?”

“I am taking you to medical,” the commander said. “You are needed there. Along the way, I would speak with your mate about matters that concern you both. Is this acceptable, or should I have you returned to your quarters?”

His politeness dumbfounded me, but Reever agreed and followed him away from the food storage area.

“These caverns had existed for millennia,” the commander said. “They hold great fascination for the people, and throughout time our tribes have searched for passages into them to explore their secrets. Maps were drawn and handed down for many generations.” He stopped at one of the stone markers and looked out at the diminutive city. “When it came time to deal with the League, we knew these places would serve best as the shelters of our future.”

Reever seemed puzzled. “So you deceived them into thinking you abandoned technology in order to hide here?”

“It was not a deception. We left all that they had bestowed upon us on the surface.” The commander glanced up at the cavern ceiling beforur people on a new planet.”

The commander shook his head. “Even if we were to send away enough of our people to keep our species alive, the League would learn of it and wish to know what drove them from our world. They would come with their ships and their probes. We could not hold them off for long.”

“They will do that after you’re gone,” I predicted.

“There will be nothing left for them to take,” the commander replied. “When the crystal has taken over oKia completely, it will solidify around it and go back to sleep. Nothing can reawaken it once it has eaten a world.”

Memories Reever had given me of the year Cherijo had spent on Catopsa flooded into my thoughts. The depot world had been made of the Pel crystal. After he and Cherijo had freed the slaves from the prisons there, the Pel had changed into its liquid form and devoured the slave depot. I opened my mouth to tell the commander this, but felt Reever take my hand in his.

Say nothing yet of Catopsa.

“This is a very dangerous secret,” my husband said. “Why are you trusting us with it?”

“Your mate, and the miracle she performed on your interpreter,” the commander said. “Before him, no one has ever survived exposure.” He turned to me. “Dnoc says you are the Crystal Healer of legend. I do not know if that is true or not, for you are a female, but you did save the life of the Skartesh. Now we would ask that you help us save our world.”

“Initiate sterile field,” Jylyj said, and a bioelectric curtain formed around us. To me, he said, “This will keep them from overhearing us.”

“Just so.” I found a container of gloves and pulled on a pair before I went to him. “Either the crystal wishes you to be an oKiaf when it kills you, or you lied to me. Which is it?”

He glanced down at himself. “I told you as much of the truth as I could. Genetically I am Skartesh, or at least I was until an hour ago. My body is reverting to my natal form.”

“You were born oKiaf, but you were alterformed into a Skartesh.” As he nodded, I used a scanner to detect the level of crystal infection, which was indeed rising, before I checked the occlusions in his eyes. “The League scientists didn’t do this. Their technology is not this advanced.”

“After the initial alterforming, my body did it on its own,” Jylyj told me. “My immune system must have responded to the changes made to my DNA. Within a few hours, all of my oKiaf genes were gone, replaced by Skartesh.”

“This reversion could be a good sign. Excuse me for a moment. Deactivate sterile field.” As the bioelectric field vanished, I went to leave.

“Reinitiate sterile field.” Jylyj seized my arm. “You can’t tell them. I have already violated tribal law. If they learn of who I was”—he shook his head—“it could be very bad for the rest of you.”

“Why?” Now I felt utterly confused. “Who are you?”

“I was a major in the Allied League intelligence forces,” Jylyj said. “I was originally alterformed to infiltrate the Skartesh when they fled to K-2,” Jylyj said. “My real name is Shon Valtas.”

I frowned. “Then these are your people. Your tribe.”

“Not since I enlisted,” he told me. “My father forbade it, and when I defied him, he cast me out of the tribe. It’s the same as being dead to them, and as an outcast, I could never return here.”

“But you did.” My head hurt. “What laws did you break, and how much trouble are you in?”

“Outcasts are shunned by the tribes and driven from the planet,” he said slowly. “If they ever return to oKia and are discovered, they’re handed over to Elphian for punishment. As is anyone who helps them.”

“What is the punishment?”

“Enslavement, or imprisonment for life.” He sighed. “Forgive me.”

“Oh, now you’re sorry.” I thought fast. “We can probably keep them from finding out who you are for a little while, but we really have to get you out of here.”

“In a few hours, it won’t matter,” he said. “I regret that I didn’t tell you the truth. I only wanted to die on my homeworld.”

“You did jump in that pit of crystal deliberately.” I stared at him. “That’s why you kept telling me afterward to let you go. You were trying to kill yourself.”

“The League has been hunting me ever since they discovered that I was a touch healer. I changed my appearance, assumed the identity of a dead Skartesh medical resident, and even hid myself on Joren. But I knew they would never stop looking, and I grew tired of running.” He lay back on the table and stared into the emitter hanging over it. “My father was like me, S BæP~·åPt although not as strong. He said the crystal was one of the few things that could kill us. After I lost Jadaira . . . I only wanted it to end.”

I felt like slapping him. “I don’t know who Jadaira is, but you’re a healer with a tremendous gift. You could use it to help so many, but instead you decide to commit suicide. That isn’t as stupid as it is obscene.”

He propped himself up on his arms. “Do you know what the League wanted me to do? What oKiaf touch healers have always done for them? We’re used in interrogation centers. Prisoners are beaten and abused to the brink of death, and then we’re brought in to heal them, so they can be tortured again. And again. And again.”

My stomach clenched. “You could have refused to do it.”

“You don’t refuse the League. You know what they’re capable of.” He gave me a weary look. “They murdered my little brother. They drowned him after my father refused to serve as their chief interrogator.”

Little wonder the father had made Jylyj—Shon—an outcast for joining them. “But they didn’t know about you or your abilities, or they would never have discharged you from the military.”

He shook his head. “I concealed what I was from them for years, until one of the aquatic pilots on K-2 fatally injured herself while saving the Skartesh. I found her dying, and because I cared for her, I couldn’t let her go. After I used my ability a second time to save the young leader of a neighboring world, word got back to the League, and they came for me. And I wasn’t discharged from the military, Jarn. I deserted.”

“You did what was necessary.” I didn’t care if he was a criminal. He had destroyed his life in order to remain true to his oath as a healer and do the work. In my eyes, it had been a noble act. “It must have taken great courage. You have no reason to feel shame.”

His voice turned bitter. “I will if the League captures me and forces me to use my ability on their prisoners.”

“The League is not here, and you are not giving yourself to the oKiaf, either.” I jabbed my finger into his chest. “You are going to fight this infection, and give me time to find a treatment for it. You are going to live, Major Valtas.”

“Why should I?”

Anger surged inside me.“In all the years Cherijo Grey Veil was hunted for what she was—for what I am—she never gave up healing. It is why we were made, and to deny it or run away from it or to kill yourself rather than face it is the act of a sniveling coward. I am many things, but I am not that, and whatever happens to me, I will not be remembered that way.” I gave him a look of contempt. “Is this how you wish to be remembered?”

“My father is dead. My tribe would have me imprisoned or sold to slavers.” He closed his eyes. “There is no one left who cares.”

“There is me, and Duncan. There are others like you and me. They are the brothers and sisters of our hearts.” I took his paw between my hands. “We will be your tribe now.”

He made a rough sound. “You don’t even like me.”

“Then give me a reason to. Live. Be my brother.” I gripped his paw as the tears in my eyes spilled over. “Shon, please. I have never met anyone like me. I can’t tell you why, but I know, in here”—I pressed his paw to my heart—“we need you.”

Soagueou let me worry about that.” I draped him with linens and quickly wrapped most of his face and head with gauze. “I need to put you back on dialysis until we can arrange transport off oKia. I will tell them that the crystal is suppurating through your skin and you have to be kept under quarantine.”

He glanced at his arms. “Crystal is coming out of my skin.”

“You see? I will not even have to lie,” I said. “The risk of exposure should keep them out of here.” I turned toward the room’s control console. “Deactivate sterile field.”

I went out of the isolation room and into the corridor. A technician had just finished replacing the charcoal in the filtering reservoir with fresh wood shavings.

“The patient has crystal erupting through his derma,” I told the technician, whose eyes bulged. “Anyone who enters this room risks exposure and infection, so I am placing it under strict quarantine. No one enters without first obtaining my permission. Show me how to change the security code on this door panel.”

Once I changed the access code, I wheeled the unit into the isolation room, secured the door, and started the treatment.

“What do you think of me now, Healer?” he asked.

“I am glad to know that your name is not Jylyj,” I mentioned as I monitored the level of crystal in his blood. “I never liked it much. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

“It was that or Hurkuut.”

I grimaced. “That sounds like someone regurgitating.”

“So I thought, but the Skartesh language is not known for its lyrical qualities.” He watched the scanner with me. “You did see me coming out of the water that morning on Joren. I couldn’t risk exposing myself by telling you the truth.”

“I knew it.” I frowned. “But how did you learn to swim? As a Skartesh, you should have gone into shock from being immersed.”

“I did not acquire the Skartesh’s biological aversion to water.” His voice changed. “Ever since my brother drowned, I’d hated it, and feared it. Then I met Jadaira on K-2, and she was an aquatic. To be with her, I had to learn to swim.”

I had no great love of water, and silently gave thanks that Reever had not turned out to be an aquatic. “How did that go?”

“Awkward at first. Dair coaxed me into a little pond, and I thought I’d choke to death on my fear. But she was patient with me, and gradually I learned to tolerate it, and then to relax in it, and finally to love it, as I loved her.”

The thought of an oKiaf falling in love with an aquatic should have seemed bizarre, but I found it both charming and sad. “You said you lost her. Did she die in the war?”

“No, I lost her to another male.” He grimaced. “She gave her heart to one of her own kind. They are far more happy together than she and I would have been.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier to accept.” I thought of all the jealousy I had felt toward Cherijo for being Reever’s first wife. “If you are in love with this aquatic, why have you shown such interest in me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It was your scent at first—you may not be beautiful by oKiaf standards, but you smell like the loveliest of females. And then you touched me, and I swear to you, I felt it in my soul. It was as if I recognized you, here.” He tapped his chest. “I didw did twanted to test it.”

“Duncan and I . . .” How did I explain the complexity of our relationship? “We belong to each other. There will never be another for me, or for him.”

“I never wished to admit it, but I felt the same for Jadaira. It was never meant to be, however.” He looked over at the dialysis unit. “This will stabilize the infection rate, but that is all it will do. We have never found any method of removing the crystal once it has infiltrated a living body.”

I was slightly relieved by the change of subject. “It mutates like a virus, spreads like cancer, eats like bacteria. I have never seen any pathogen like it. Yet its composition is mineral—almost identical to that of common quartz.”

“Perhaps it is a silica-based life-form.” He seemed amused. “If it is, will you name it after me?”

“Shon’s planet-eating rock?” I suggested.

“Valtas crystal,” he corrected. “It sounds more dignified.”

Someone chimed the door panel, and I handed the scanner to Shon before I went to see who it was. Reever and the commander stood waiting in the corridor, and neither looked happy.

“I’ll return in a moment,” I told him, and stepped outside. To Reever, I said, “I’ve started Sh—Jylyj back on dialysis. His readings are stabilizing, but the infection has advanced. Were you able to signal Xonea?”

My husband shook his head. “We have been unable to reach the ship at all. The station has been overtaken by mercenaries. They are holding the Elphian hostage and have demanded an exchange. The Valtas have agreed to their terms.”

I turned to the commander. “You can’t trade my husband and me like we are only commodities. There must be another way to rescue your people.”

“The mercenaries did not ask for either of you,” the commander said. “They want the Skartesh.”

Sixteen

“It is a good trade,” the commander insisted. He couldn’t quite look me in the eye. “The Skartesh is near death, and nothing can save him.”

“Forgive me,” I said, “but when did you become a physician? Before or after your military training?”

The oKiaf gave me a sour look. “What I mean to say is, he will not live long enough to be used by them or suffer at their hands.”

My astonishment over the fact that the mercenaries had not come for me and Reever became lost in the disgust I felt for this man. “As opposed to be used and made to suffer by you.” I nodded. “I thought you were a stupid man. Now I am sure of it.”

The commander glanced at my husband. “I cannot sacrifice hundreds to spare one who will not live. We are launching in thirty minutes.” He inclined his head toward me before he walked away.

“They’re not taking him.” I turned around and unlocked the door panel. “I won’t permit it.”

“We may have no choice in the matter.” Reever followed me into the isolation room and watched me secure the panel. “Jarn, you can’t barricade yourself in here with Jylyj. The Valtas will simply blast their way in.”

“You don’t understand,” I said very patiently.

“We don’t have time to smuggle the Skartesh out of the building, much les"5">“I know what you mean. I feel it, too. Once we’re back on Joren and surrounded by the HouseClan fleet, I’m sure everyone’s spirits will improve.”

I took the nearest lift to medical bay and mentally went over what I would need to continue the filtering treatments to keep Shon alive while I searched for a cure. As I walked into the bay, I expected to see most of the berths filled and the staff busy attending to them. The echo of my footsteps rang against my ears as I surveyed the emptiness.

Every berth had been made up perfectly. Equipment trays stood neatly arranged and waiting to be used. The floor itself glowed, as spotless as if it were brand-new. I knew in my absence Herea would have taken her responsibilities very seriously, but in the wake of the battle, there should have been some disorder.

“Herea? Charge Nurse?” I called out, walking around the unoccupied bay. I found everything in its place, but no one on duty. Frowning, I went to a com panel and signaled Command. “Xonea? No one is here in medical. Did Herea set up a temporary triage in one of the cargo bays?”

The panel must have been malfunctioning, or the captain was ignoring me, for no one responded.

“Fine, ClanBrother. I will go and find it myself.” I walked out and down the corridor to the survey lab. The panel was no longer secured, and I opened it to find another empty room—this one stripped of all the special equipment Nalek Kalea had installed. The black crystal was also gone.

“Reever?” I started to cross the threshold, and then stepped back. The door panel closed in my face.

A terrible bleakness washed over me as I hurried to another com panel in the corridor and attempted to signal command. When I received no response, I tried a second panel, and then a third, and sent signals to command, communications, engineering, and the galley. No one on the ship responded to my signals.

That was when I became aware of the emptiness around me. The ship was about to transition; the corridors should have been bustling with crew members preparing for the interdimensional jump. The passages were instead completely deserted. In fact, since leaving command, I had not seen a single member of the crew. It was as if I were the only one left on board.

I ran to our quarters and found them empty. With shaking hands I filled a server with water and drank it to ease my tight throat. Sweat had dampened the native garments I still wore, and I decided to change before I went back to command and demanded some answers from my ClanBrother.

As I went to retrieve fresh garments from the storage units in our bed chamber, I saw Jenner and Juliet sleeping on the end of our berth. I went to scratch Jenner’s head as he looked at me with his big blue eyes, and then froze as I remembered.

We had left the cats back on Joren.

“No.” I reached down to seize the cat by the throat, and my hand passed through the image of it, causing a brief static disruption of the holographic image.

I ran to the com panel and initiated a ship-wide signal. “Reever, if you can hear me, respond.” I waited a few seconds and tried again. “Duncan, this is an emergency, please respond now.”

Reever didn’t reply to my signal. Neither did anyone else. When I attempted to leave our quarters, the door panel refused to open.

I went to the storage units where I kept my and trs. The only thing the prep unit would produce was water. I searched frantically, but found nothing I could use to defend myself.

Through the viewport I saw the dwindling image of oKia, and rested my brow against the plas.

“Duncan,” I whispered. “What have we done?”

“The door panel opened behind me. “Your husband is here, Dr. Grey Veil.”

I whirled around to see a short-statured, dark-haired Terran and two mercenaries holding Duncan and Shon, who were bound and gagged. The Terran held a device in his hand, and when he pressed a switch on it the image of our quarters on the Sunlace vanished, replaced by another, unfamiliar chamber.

“This is a secured cell,” the Terran said to me. “You will be kept here during our sojourn. Follow instructions, and you will be treated fairly.”

I knew him now, and the sight of him horrified me.

Reever suddenly broke free of his bonds and shoved one mercenary into the other. As he bent down to grab the rifle the mercenary had dropped, the Terran produced a pulse pistol, turned, and shot my husband in the right arm and both legs. I screamed as Reever went down and blood spurted from the massive wounds in his limbs.

I ran, uncaring of the pistol the Terran pointed at me, and knelt in a pool of Reever’s blood.

“Duncan.” I tried to staunch the flow with my hands, and then Shon was there, cut free of his bonds. He gently moved my hands aside and rested his paws over my husband’s leg wounds.

Light poured out of the edges of Shon’s tunic as he closed his eyes and his expression turned to one of great concentration. When he lifted one paw to place it over Reever’s arm wound, I saw the terrible gaping hole in my husband’s thigh had disappeared.

I looked up at the Terran, who was smiling.

“We had to be sure we had the touch healer,” he told me as he tucked the pistol in his belt and walked out.

Shon opened his eyes and sagged back against the wall of the cell. “He will be all right.”

“Where are we?” I asked. “Whose ship is this?”

“I don’t know.” He was breathing heavily now. “But this is not a League ship.”

More mercenaries came into the room and dragged me to my feet. When I fought them, one hit me over the back of the head with his weapon, and I lost consciousness.

I came to in a different place, my body sprawled on a deck. Beyond me, a long row of observation panels showed a vast expanse of stars and blackness. The Terran who had shot Duncan stood looking out, but when I propped myself up, he turned around.

“You are awake. Good. It’s time we talked.”

Joseph Grey Veil began walking toward me.

Seventeen

I knew that he was Joseph Grey Veil. I recognized him from a few pictures that I had found among Cherijo’s possessions. His features also told me who he was. Looking upon him was like gazing into a distorted mirror.

I also knew that Joseph Grey was dead, murdered on Terra by Cherijo’s brother.

It can’t be him.

“It’s been such a long time, my dear.” The Terran came to stand over me, and offered a hand to help me up.

Don’t let him touch me.

I crawled backward away from it and stood, reaching for the blade I had tucked beneath my belt.

“The guards took the knife,” Joseph said. “You should not have fought them. They wouldn’t have hurt you if you had obeyed my orders.”

Who is he? “Who are you?”

“They said you had experienced memory loss due to a head injury.” He studied my face. “I am Joseph Grey Veil.” He waited for me to say something, and took a step toward me. “I am your father, Cherijo.”

I have no father. I was made, not born.

I backed away. “Joseph Grey Veil died on Terra years ago.” My shoulders hit the wall behind me. “Who are you?”

“You still believe that your brother Jericho killed me. Small wonder, then, that you look so frightened.” He smiled at me. “That man who died was a clone, like you. He was, in fact, the oldest of your cloned brothers. In dangerous situations I often used him as a double. I was quite put out when Jericho murdered him.”

He’s lying. Look into his eyes. I can see it.

My head throbbed and I felt as if I might puke. “I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. You are in shock,” he advised me. “In time, you will come to accept that I am alive, and we will be together from now on.”

No. No. NO.

Fear crawled all over me, inside and out, and all I could think was that I had to get as far away from this man as I could. “Why did you abduct us? What do you want?”

“You are my daughter, Cherijo. In fact, legally you are still my property. I am simply recovering what belongs to me.” He went to a prep unit and dialed up a server of tea. “You haven’t stopped drinking chamomile, I hope.”

Run.

I ran to the door panel and tried to open it. He had secured it. “I want to go back to my husband.”

“Duncan Reever is not your husband. You are not classified as a sentient being, so you cannot marry.” He filled a clear server with a light amber liquid. “You will need it to be sweet for the shock. Do you prefer sugar or honey?”

He’ll use it to cover up the taste of the drugs. Don’t drink it.

Sweat stung my eyes as it streamed down my face. If I could have crawled up the wall to get away from him, I would have. “Take me back to Duncan.”

“I think honey is more soothing.” He stirred something into the server and brought it to me. “Here. Drink. It will calm your nerves.”

Throw it in his face. Blind him.

I couldn’t bring myself to do that, so I slapped the server out of his hand. “Get away from me.”

“Why are you so afraid?” Something gleamed in his eyes. “I created you. I raised you. You have known me most of your life. I never harmed you, did I?”

He is not my father.

I turned and pounded on the door panel, shouting for someone to help me. When I felt a cold hand seneck, dread made me freeze.

Oh God oh God no please don’t—

The voice inside my head abruptly went silent.

“That’s better.” Still holding my neck, he turned me around to face him. “I am sorry I did not come for you before now. By killing my double, your brother caused a great deal of trouble for me, and then I was blamed for the war between the League and the Hsktskt. Fortunately, I had some colleagues in the research field who knew better and helped me go into hiding. In all the years that we have been kept apart, I never stopped thinking about you, Daughter. I came to find you as soon as I could.”

Uorwlan had warned us about the one sending the mercenaries after us . . . a wealthy Terran with friends among the League.

“You are the one who put the bounty on me and Duncan.” I wanted to shout it, but the only thing that would come from my throat was a thin whisper. Sweat now soaked my garments, and I trembled all over.

“I could not personally search the entire galaxy for you,” he explained as he steered me over to the observation viewer. “Offering the bounty was the quickest and surest method of finding you.”

My father would never trust mercenaries with me. He despised offworlders.

Some of the inexplicable fear drained out of me. “Are you taking me back to Terra?”

He laughed. “No, I’m afraid we wouldn’t be very welcome on the homeworld.” He released his grip on me. “I can’t discuss my plans with you just yet. Later, when you are thinking more rationally, perhaps I will.”

I still felt enough terror squeezing my insides to make my voice shake. “Then take me back to my—to Duncan.”

“In a little while,” he said. “First, I would like you to tell me where Marel is.”

God, he knows.

“Marel?” Surely this was the worst of my nightmares. “I don’t know that name.”

“You should. You and her father picked it out together.” He chuckled, as if it were all a jest. “Cherijo, did you really think you could hide her from me? I have been waiting for years for you to make me a grandfather.”

I would kill myself before I acknowledged my child’s existence. “If you are referring to the one pregnancy I had before you abducted me the last time, I miscarried the fetus. You confirmed that yourself when you examined me on Terra.”

“I know your immune system wouldn’t allow you to carry a child full-term, as I designed it that way,” he agreed. “But recently, the Omorr have made great strides toward the creation of an artificial womb to sustain premature infants delivered in the first trimester. The bulk of the research and design of the chamber was done by an Omorr surgeon. The same one, as it happens, who attended you during your miscarriage.”

I said nothing.

“Tell me where she is, Cherijo, and I will see to it that you’re reunited with her as soon as she can be retrieved. She belongs with us.” He tried to touch my face, but I jerked out of reach. “If you don’t tell me, you’ll never see her again.”

“There is no child,” I insisted. “I lost my baby. The Jorenians will give you the medical records to prove it.”

“Of course.” He sounded thoughtful. “The Jorenians would do anything to protect you, wouldn’t they? Part of the problem in finding you was always getting past them. I want to show you something.”

When I made no move to follow him, he took me by the arm and hauled me across the deck to a vid panel set into the wall.

“I took great interest in the Hsktskt who was alterformed into a Jorenian,” he said as he switched on the screen. “Jorenians, like the Hsktskt, refuse to live as slaves, and to attempt to abduct one is to sign one’s own death warrant. Acquiring samples of their DNA, however, only involves briefly interrupting one of their funerary probes on its flight into their star. I believe that is how the Hsktskt acquired what they used to create PyrsVar.”

I saw the image of a young Jorenian male in an empty isolation chamber. He appeared frightened, and moved restlessly around the room.

“I commissioned the alterforming of this slave-born crossbreed to serve as a subject for my viral research,” he said, indicating the image. “It took some months, but with my help the geneticists were able to alter his DNA and his body to make him approximately ninety percent pure Jorenian.”

A drone arm extended from the ceiling of the chamber and jabbed a syrinpress into the neck of the young male. I flinched exactly as he did in the image.

“Using what I learned from studying this male’s physiology, I engineered a virus,” Joseph said. “He has just been injected with it.” He tapped some of the screen controls. “Now I’ll increase the speed of the replay so you can observe the full effects quickly. This will cover twenty-four hours in a few seconds.”

The actions of the isolated male began to speed up. He clutched at his belly, began to sweat, vomited, fell several times, and then collapsed. His mouth opened again and again as he apparently called for help. His movements became slower, and he fell, unconscious, and stopped breathing.

The young male’s face blurred momentarily, and I blinked the tears from my eyes.

“No need to be upset, my dear. He was bred in a slave pen. Granted, dying in this manner was quite painful, but really nothing compared to the lifetime of misery he would have experienced as a slave.” Joseph switched off the image. “The virus attacks either through the bloodstream or the respiratory system, depending on how it is delivered. But the truth of it is that it only kills Jorenians.”

His self-satisfied babbling finally penetrated my wretched sorrow. “You were a doctor once. You took an oath to do no harm to any other sentient being. How could you do such a thing?”

“I had planned to disperse the virus on Joren in order to find you,” he admitted, as if it were something of little consequence. “Until now I had thought that would no longer be necessary.”

I stared at him. “You are a monster.”

“I will have what belongs to me, Cherijo.” He used the com panel. “Captain, please set course for Joren.”

“You have me,” I said.

“I want Marel,” he told me. “Tell me where she is, and I will destroy the virus as soon as she joins us.”

“There is no Marel,” I said, desperately clinging to my lie. “You would be murdering millions of people for one child who exists only in your imagination.”

“She is as real as you, Daughter,” he said. “As for the Jorenians, their fate is in your hands now. You will decide which is more important to you: your daughter or an entire civilization.” He her back to the cell.”

“You can’t do this,” I shouted as the guards seized my arms. “I will do whatever you want. I will go willingly with you anywhere.”

“You are going with me to Joren,” Joseph told me. “If you do not tell me what I want to know, you will also watch everyone on the planet die.”

I didn’t see where the guards took me. The face of the dead alterformed slave seemed imprinted on my eyes. When I blinked, it changed to that of Jorenians I knew: Salo, Darea, Xonal, young Fasala. I told myself over and over that even a sadistic brute like Joseph Grey Veil would not dare exterminate a species merely to get his way. Then I remembered what Reever had told me of him, and what I read in Cherijo’s journals. In his efforts to retrieve Cherijo, Joseph Grey Veil had set into motion the war between the League and the Hsktskt. Worlds had been devastated, millions wounded and killed—all because of this one man and what he desired.

I saw myself taking one of the rifles from the guards and firing it into my mouth. The pulse would vaporize my head and most of my upper torso; surely enough to kill me. I would happily die to protect Marel and Joren. But would that even stop him? If he suspected Marel was on Joren, my death would not prevent him from releasing the virus. It removed every obstacle that would otherwise keep him from searching the planet for Marel, and he knew it would not kill my daughter.

The guards stopped outside the room that had been made to look like our quarters on the Sunlace, and one of them checked the interior on the outside door panel. It showed Reever and Shon still lying bound, gagged, and unconscious on the deck. Only then did the guard input the entry code and march me inside.

What happened then was fast and violent. Blood splashed over me as a blade whipped across the throat of one guard. Claws blinded the second, who choked on his scream as his head was wrenched too far to one side and his neck snapped.

Reever dragged the dead guard inside and reached with a bloody hand to close the door panel.

“You were on the floor,” I said stupidly. “I saw you.”

“We made a recycling image of ourselves as we were before we got out of our bonds, and programmed the panel from the inside to display it.” He pulled me into his arms. “Did he harm you?”

In ways I could never describe, I thought. “Not yet.” I held on to him for a few precious seconds before I pulled away and turned to Shon. Streaks of crystal ran diagonally across his face and encased his right forearm. I knew from the sorrow in his eyes what it had cost him to kill the guard. “Thank you.”

“You can thank me, too,” Uorwlan said as she came out of the adjoining room. She handed rifles to Shon and Reever, and offered one to me.

I took it and slung it over my shoulder. “How did you free yourself?”

“Remember what I told you about males?” She smiled, showing bloodied teeth. “There’s one guard who won’t be spreading it around anymore.”

Shon began stripping the guard out of his uniform. “Rinse the blood from the other’s tunic. It is dark enough that no one will notice it is wet.”

As I helped Reever removed the other guard’s uniform, I told him about the clone Joseph Grey Veil had used on Terra, how he had gone into hiding to conceal his identity during the war, and why he had offered the bounty for us.

I wanted to believe him, but I had felt such an instinctive fear of the man that doubt filled me. “If he used a clone, he would look the same.”

“Cherijo once stabbed Joseph in the hand. It left a small but distinctive scar. The man Jericho killed had the same scar.” He glanced at my face. “Something else happened.”

I told him of the Terran’s demands and his promise to release the bioengineered virus as soon as we reached Joren if I did not tell him where our daughter was.

Reever stripped out of his garments and dressed in the guard’s wet tunic. “If he has this virus on board, then all we have to do is destroy the ship.”

“First we have to get off,” Uorwlan pointed out. “Which we should do—now.”

“We will go directly to launch bay,” my husband decided. “As soon as we can find it.”

“I am certain this ship has the same number of decks, quarters, and bays in the same places as the real Sunlace ,” I said. “I think it was built to be a duplicate.”

“Why use all the holoprojectors, then?” Uorwlan asked. “Why not fit it out like the real thing?”

“They didn’t have enough time,” Reever said. “One of the guards was complaining about it. From what I overheard, this ship was removed from the construction docks before it was finished. The crew was not supposed to report for duty for another six months.”

“The Terran said he had intended to use the virus to find me on Joren,” I said. “He must have commissioned the HouseClan ship as part of that plan.”

“He would have been able to assume orbit around Joren without arousing suspicions.” Shon pulled the guard’s headgear down over his face, and to cover the rifle draped my shoulders with the native garment he had removed. “Remember to hold your hands behind your back so they appear to be bound.”

To anyone watching us leave the cell, we appeared to be two prisoners being moved by two guards. The ruse worked so well that we passed two crewmen who barely gave us a glance.

We entered the lift that would take us to launch bay, and as soon as it closed us in, I turned to my husband. “We can’t return to the station or the planet. Where will we go?”

“My ship,” Uorwlan said. “It’s not the Sunlace, but she’s fast, well armed, and can make a jump in under two minutes.”

“What is it, all engine?” Shon asked, amused.

The Takgiba gave him a decidedly sultry look. “It’s not the size of the weapon, but how much power you put into it.”

The lift came to a stop and the doors slid open. I stepped out first with Uorwlan, placing my hands behind my back again to play the prisoner. An alarm screeched as the light emitters began to flash, and something came running down the corridor toward us.

The massive humanoid, easily twice my height, had a body like the front end of a land transport. His hands had been replaced by two weapons somehow welded onto his arms, and he began firing both at us as he charged the lift.

“Drone,” Shon shouted.

I had never seen a drone made to look like a living being, but I targeted the center part of the torso and fired. The drone’s power core exploded, causing his enormous chassis to break part into wn, and he and Reever pried the doors apart. Inside a half dozen crewmen scattered, firing at us while trying to take defensive positions behind the launches. Reever and Shon returned fire until there was nothing left but bodies on the deck.

“I’ll rig a bypass.” Uorwlan, clutching a wounded shoulder, went to the airlock control console. “Prep that small scout over there for launch; it’s the fastest thing they’ve got.”

I grabbed a first-aid pack from a storage unit and brought it to the console. “You’re bleeding,” I told her when she protested. “We need you conscious.”

While Reever and Shon boarded the scout and read ied it for launch, I applied a coagulant and a field dressing to the wound on the Takgiba’s shoulder.

“He told me that you have a daughter,” she mentioned as she worked on the console. “What is her name?”

I secured the dressing. “Marel.”

“Does she look like you?”

I thought this was a strange conversation to be having under the circumstances. “She is small like me, and likely inherited my nose, my feet, and my temper, but Reever gave her the color of his hair and eyes.”

“I wanted to give him a child,” Uorwlan said. “My kind can’t breed with Terrans, so I knew it was impossible. Still, I thought he would make a wonderful father.”

I glanced over at the scout. “He is.”

She nodded slowly. “I wanted to tear your throat the moment I saw you, and then I saw the way he looks at you. He told me he couldn’t feel love, but I knew different. He only had to find his other half, and it wasn’t me.” She gazed at me. “That’s why I left him, you know. To give him the chance to find you.”

I felt relieved and terrible. “What about you and Shon?”

She laughed. “I enjoyed him, but he’s too much like me. You’d better get on board now. I’ll have this patch finished in a minute.”

I felt reluctant to leave her alone at the console, but nodded and went to the launch. Inside Shon sat behind the helm with Reever at copilot; the two of them were finishing the preflight checks.

I surveyed the interior. The scout had not been designed to ferry passengers, but there were two emergency harnesses in the back that the Takgiba and I could use to secure ourselves for launch.

“We’re good,” Uorwlan said as she boarded and secured the ramp. “That bypass won’t hold forever, so get this dink moving.”

Shon initiated launch and eased the scout into the airlock. Weapons fire erupted behind us as the massive doors closed and the outer hull doors parted.

“Fasten your harnesses,” Shon called back to us. “This won’t be a smooth ride.”

It wasn’t. As soon as the scout departed the ship, the vessel came around and began firing at us. Shon and Reever worked grimly to evade the volleys, but as the scout turned and twisted the hull began to shudder under multiple impacts.

I cringed as I heard the boom of a sonic cannon. “We will never make it out of here.”

“Don’t be a mewling kit,” Uorwlan told me. “We’ve got friends out there now.”

I glanced through the viewport and saw two ships pass the scout—a small, fast trader transport and a m an boomed again, forcing the mercenaries to break off their attack to evade impact.

Shon did something that made the scout turn end over end, and flew after the Sunlace.

“We can’t risk docking in midflight,” I heard Reever say to him. “If the clamps are not perfectly aligned, we’ll collide.”

“The ’Zangians taught me how to do it,” Shon assured him. “They call it poking the shrike.”

I held my breath as the scout darted under the hull of the Sunlace and into docking position. Clamps extended, reaching for our tiny ship, and somehow the oKiaf managed to catch on to them a moment before we would have smashed into the bigger vessel. Above our heads I heard the rumble of retractors as the scout was lifted into an airlock, and then space disappeared.

“Welcome on board, Major Valtas,” Xonea’s annoyed voice said over the com. “I assume you did not kill anyone on board your launch with that foolhardy maneuver.”

“All present and accounted for, Captain.” Shon powered down the engines and glanced back at the Takgiba. “I would have told him myself.”

Uorwlan made a casual gesture. “I saved you the trouble.” She released her harness, but instead of moving to the docking ramp she went to the pilot’s seat. “Let me at the console. I want to see how you did that.”

Shon rose and then staggered, putting out a hand to brace himself. Crystal claws cut into the plas seat covering.

I went to the docking ramp, lowered it, and then hurried over to the oKiaf. “Reever, help me.”

Between us we supported Shon and walked down the ramp.

“I need a gurney,” I said, bracing myself as the oKiaf’s knees buckled. One appeared a moment later, and two crewmen helped us lift Shon’s unconscious body onto it. “Signal medical. I need an isolation room set up with a dialysis unit, stat.”

The deck rocked under my feet as the ship took a massive blast to the starboard hull. I heard alloy groan and emergency alarms going off as a calm Jorenian voice ordered the bay to be evacuated.

The airlock doors began to close behind us, and I turned to see Uorwlan sitting in the pilot’s seat. As the scout’s engines engaged, she strapped herself in and disengaged the docking clamps.

Reever ran over to a com panel. “Uorwlan, shut down the engines and come out of there.”

“Not on your life, lover,” she replied.

The outer doors opened and the scout flew off, heading for the Odnallak raider.

I sent Shon ahead to medical and went with Reever to the nearest communication station, where he brought up the scout on the viewer and signaled the Takgiba.

“Turn around and come back to the ship,” he ordered. “You can’t fight them in a scout. You don’t have any weapons. Uorwlan.”

“I don’t need them,” she replied as her image appeared on the screen. She seemed amused. “I’m just going to run a little interference and give you and the Jorenians some time to get out of here.”

“We’re not leaving without you,” I said.

“Hold on.” The Takgiba maneuvered the scout around a heavy burst of pulse fire. “I don’t know who that shifter has on weapons, but they’re good. They’ve taken out your long-range signal array. A coupof the equation.” Maggie turned to me. “Because you’ve prevented the mercenaries from capturing Shon Valtas, they’re going to Plan B. In a few hours, they will invade Trellus, capture the worm, and force it to be their alarm clock. When that happens, say bye-bye to everyone and everything that matters, because Swap is going to eat it.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

Maggie glowered. “Why else would I send you to a pretty much guaranteed death, kiddo? I mean, you’re a nasty bitch with identity issues, but you’re still the closest thing I’ve ever had to offspring.”

“You are no mother to me.”

“Yeah, well, as a daughter, you stink, too,” she snapped back. “And thanks to the little vacations you and Reever have been taking lately, you’ve totally fucked our timeline. For your information, the space occupied by an object undergoing a transformation does not preserve all linear dimensions. There are no other options now.”

I shook my head. “You’re lying.”

“You want proof? My pleasure.” Maggie snapped her fingers, and our quarters became the surface of Trellus. “Here we are a little further along the present timeline, at everyone’s least favorite vacation spot, the colony from hell.”

I knew we couldn’t be standing on the surface of the planet, for if we had been we would have frozen and suffocated simultaneously. At the same time, I knew we were there. Somehow Maggie had made that possible.

I glanced over at the domes in which the colonists lived, but they were all dark now. Some had been fired upon and had collapsed atop the ruins of the structures and dwellings they once protected.

Tall, thin beings in envirosuits marched out of Swap’s dome in two columns. Between them slid several tons of an enormous pink worm, now harnessed to a device that wrapped its amorphous body with thousands of pastel bands. A probe attached to the end of each band seemed to be feeding some sort of green fluid into the worm’s body.

“The Odnallak have forgotten a lot of things, but not how to kill everything that gets in their way,” Maggie said, her voice bitter. “Or what controls a baby rogur.”

Swap was led up a cargo ramp and into the belly of a massive alien raider. At the last minute he tried to resist, but the shifters’ device pumped more green poison into his body, and at last he slithered inside.

Maggie snapped her fingers again, and we were walking across a meadow of orange-gray flowers under a red sky.

“Welcome to Naetriht, home of zip.” She kicked aside some of the flowers to reveal the ground, which appeared to be made of black crystal. “A few million years ago, this crap ate everything that might have evolved into something interesting, before it went to sleep.” She looked up as shuttles began descending on the meadow. “I swear, you could set a timing device by these guys.”

Odnallak, this time dressed in some sort of ceremonial garments, poured out of the shuttles and took up positions around the edge of the clearing. A much bigger shuttle flew overhead, opening its cargo doors and releasing Swap, who fell to the ground in the center of the Odnallak.

The worm tried to crawl away, but the Odnallak took out weapons that t,” Maggie said. “We evolved the Hsktskt specifically to exterminate his entire species, but somehow he escaped the genocide, and later the attack on the colony. For a worm, he has lives like a cat.”

Disgust filled me. “You sent the Hsktskt to Trellus.”

“It was a mistake. Occasionally we make them,” Maggie admitted. “After that, we saw him taking care of the surviving kids and realized why he hadn’t evolved into the adult form. He may be a planet-destroying monster’s maggot, but Swap actually has a good soul.”

“Is that why he marooned himself on Trellus?” Reever asked. “To keep from evolving?”

“That, and to study the black crystal. Swap has been trying for millennia to find a way to destroy it, same as us.” Maggie gave him a grim smile. “Too late now.”

The orange-gray flowers withered and turned to dust as the ground beneath them rumbled. Swap curled in on himself as massive shafts of black crystal erupted around him, shifting and crossing each other to form more complex structures. The Odnallak moved in, touching the crystal and calling to Swap, who had become a tight, pulsing ball.

“What are they doing?” Xonea asked Maggie.

“Oh, they think they’re going to be transformed now,” she said. “The morons.”

A burst of red light came out of Swap and swept through the crystal, which dissolved it. I would have thought it destroyed, until I saw one of the Odnallak run into the shadowy air where one crystal structure had stood only a few seconds ago. A delicate black haze surrounded the Odnallak, who went still and began tearing at its robes.

Horror filled me as I saw the haze begin swirling around the shifter, slowly stripping away its skin. The Odnallak screamed over and over as it tried to get away, but the haze followed it, eating away at its muscles and then its organs, until at last all that was left was a skeleton that toppled to the ground. The haze descended, swirling gently, and when it lifted again the skeleton was gone.

All around the meadow the same thing happened again and again to the remaining shifters, until all that was left was the black haze and the tight black ball that had been Swap.

The black haze swirled around the ball now, stripping the dark outer layer away from the worm but not attacking the life-form inside.

Swap had undergone some sort of metamorphosis and emerged from the cocoon as a much larger creature, easily the size of a troop transport, with a lurid yellow-green hide and a hundred spidery limbs. He had no head, only openings on either end of his body. The biggest opened, revealing acres of teeth, and the black haze rushed into that terrible mouth, filling and bloating Swap’s new body.

I glanced at Maggie. “Will it kill him now?”

“It should be so lucky.” She watched, her eyes full. “He’s just packing for the trip.”

Once all of the haze had been sucked into his mouth, he closed it and changed shape again, growing armored yellow-black scales. He then crawled across the clearing to the empty shuttles and ate them, one by one, before looking up at the hovering transport that had brought him to the planet.

The ship landed in front of him, and angry Odnallak poured out of it, firing their fluid weapons at Swap. He stabbed his limbs through their top this, Maggie. I’ve seen enough.”

“Oh, come on,” she chided. “He’s going to N-jui next, and there’s nothing like seeing an adult rogur eat a few cities before it gives birth to several thousand versions of itself.” She watched Swap crawl into the transport, which lifted off a moment later. “Well, maybe when the little ones have their first meal.”

“You’ve made your point, Maggie,” Reever said quietly.

We were back on the Sunlace, standing in our quarters. Xonea had vanished, and Maggie looked terrible.

I started to ask her how she knew about Swap, but her form swayed and then suddenly burst into hundreds of Lok-Teel, which fell to the deck and began crawling around in a frantic, frightened manner.

“We promised to protect Swap,” my husband said slowly. “And as offensive and ridiculous as Maggie is, I think she was showing us the truth. That is what will happen if the raiders invade Trellus.”

“I know. I felt the same thing.” I reached down to stroke one of the little housekeepers, which clung to my hand and shivered.

“Duncan,” Xonea said over the com panel. “I just had a very long and disturbing hallucination. However, we do not detect a hazard inside your quarters. Are you clear? Is that redheaded female gone?”

“Yes,” Reever replied over the com, but the hazard claxon continued to sound. “You can shut that off. It was a false alarm.”

“Perhaps here, it was.” My ClanBrother disengaged the lock and entered our quarters. “But we have detected another biohazard on the ship. It’s in the survey lab.”

We accompanied Xonea to the survey lab, the corridor to which had been blocked off at either end with the same type of energy curtains that Nalek Kalea had installed in the containment chamber. One of the ship’s engineers had an interior view of the survey lab on monitor, and it showed a dark, cloudy substance had formed around the black crystal inside the chamber. “Something engaged the failsafe shortly after you sounded the biohazard alarm in your quarters,” Xonea said. “But the probe unit never emerged to encase the specimen container. The control circuits appear to have shorted out.”

I looked at the monitor. “What is the temperature in there?”

“Seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit,” Xonea said. “The same as the rest of the ship.”

“The chamber won’t hold it much longer, Captain,” one of the engineers said. “The protective field is losing power. I cannot be sure, but the specimen appears to be absorbing it.”

“How long until the field is drained?” Reever asked.

“At the rate of power loss, ten minutes,” the engineer told him.

“Disengage the corridor seal,” my husband said. “I have to go in there and activate the manual override.”

“We don’t know what type of radiation or energy that crystal is emitting,” Xonea told him. “It doesn’t register at all on our equipment. Like that female who took over my brain.”

“If I don’t eject that crystal before the containment chamber fails, the energy will be released into the rest of the deck. It could cause an explosion or worse.” My husband gestured toward the curtain blocking off the corridor. “You can reactivate it as soon he ont>

“Engage auxiliary buffer, deck seven,” Xonea ordered over the com, and a new curtain of energy formed over the gap in the hull, sealing it off. Reever’s body fell to the deck, but before I could blink, he was propping himself up and looking at the monitor again.

“It’s gone,” he said through chattering teeth. “Would you send my wife down here? I think I need a doctor.”

Nineteen

I signaled a medevac team and went with Xonea to level seven, where the engineers were working to override the pass code and gain entry to the survey lab.

“The code is one-six-four-one-seven,” I said, pushing past them as soon as the doors opened.

Exposure to space had covered every surface in the now-empty lab with a thin layer of ice, including Reever’s envirosuit. I ignored the burn of the cold as I tore apart the strap tethering him to the post and looked into the shield covering his face. Blood stained his mouth, but his eyes were clear and vivid blue.

“That is the last time I trust you,” I told him as the orderlies arrived and handed me my case. I scanned him. “Whenever I am on duty, I think I will lock you in our quarters.”

My husband stood with some difficulty, and pulled off his protective gloves. “I need to send a drone probe after the container. We have to collect it and fly it into a star.”

“You have frostbite, cracked ribs, and hypothermia, so the only place you need to go is medical.” I looked over at Xonea. “The captain will see to cleanup.”

My ClanBrother nodded and began issuing orders as the orderlies and I moved Reever onto the gurney and out of the lab.

In medical I treated Reever for exposure, slowly warming his body temperature with thermal packs while performing a more thorough scan of the impact fractures in his ribs. Thankfully, his chameleon cells were already hard at work repairing the bone damage, and by the time I finished my assessment, his ribs were healed.

Reever insisted on signaling Xonea to determine the status of the black crystal. When I threatened to put him in restraints, he said, “If the specimen container was compromised, it may have broken up the crystal. More than one drone probe may be required to collect it.”

“One signal,” I warned, “and then you must rest.”

The captain confirmed that the drone probe had been launched and had successfully tracked down the specimen container. That was the only good news he had for us, however.

“The probe’s readings indicate that the specimen container is still intact,” Xonea said. “But the black crystal is no longer inside the unit. It reads as empty.”

“Considering the effect the black crystal has on our equipment, we can’t assume that it is,” Reever said. “If you would, Captain, program the probe to fly into the nearest star.”

Xonea confirmed that he would, and terminated the signal.

“We must ask Shon to contact oKia,” my husband said, rising from the berth. “They may be able to intercept the mercenaries before they reach Trellidth="1em">“So are you.” He touched my cheek. “We don’t have much time, though, and we must know where the raider fleet is.”

Resigned, I followed him out of the treatment room and over to Shon’s chamber. The oKiaf was conscious and, after listening to Reever’s account of Maggie’s warning, agreed to signal Commander Dagar and ask his tribe for help.

The oKiaf responded quickly to Shon’s signal. “The raiders returned a few hours ago, but when we attempted to engage them, they transitioned out of the system.”

“Were you able to track where they jumped to, Cousin?” Shon asked.

“We did,” the commander confirmed. “I’ll send you the coordinates.”

I glanced at the screen as soon as the position of the raider fleet appeared, and then closed my eyes. “They’re orbiting Trellus.”

The Sunlace had to make four consecutive transitions to reach Trellus, something that nearly caused me to lose consciousness. When my mind cleared and everything finally stopped spinning, Herea reported that the ship was approaching the colony. The jaunt had come with a high price.

“Too many jumps,” she said, shaking her head. “The interdimensional generators have gone offline. We will not be transitioning anywhere for several days.”

Reever and I met with Xonea in command, where he reported what we had feared.

“Two raiders have landed on the surface, and the Odnallak have taken over most of the domes.” He turned to me. “We have received a signal from one of the domes that is currently under fire. A female Terran asked if you were on board. Thankfully, it was not the red-haired one.”

“It must be Mercy.” I went to a com unit and sent a relay. A distorted image appeared on the screen and slowly coalesced into an unsmiling face. “Mercy, it’s Jarn. We’ve come to help.”

My friend looked grim. “I don’t know who these bastards are, but they won’t negotiate terms with us. We have two hundred dead, and they’re threatening to begin executing more if we don’t give them what they want.”

I felt miserable. “They’ve come for Swap.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not here. He got a signal from some trader friend of his and left the colony a few days ago. I keep telling them this, but they don’t believe me.” Mercy looked over her shoulder as pulse fire erupted over the audio. “They’ve breached my grid. Jarn, if you can spare some of your Jorenian pals, we’d—”

The signal and the image abruptly ended.

“The raiders have disabled the colony’s transceiver,” Xonea said, and his gaze shifted. “Major Valtas.”

I turned around to see Shon standing with one arm braced against entry. Crystal streaked over most of his body and had turned his black mane into a hard mass of glittering silver-white.

“You shouldn’t have left your berth,” I said, going to him.

“I won’t be able to talk much longer,” he said, his voice rough. “Or breathe. I can feel the crystal in my throat.”

That decided things. “I’m taking you back and prepping you for surgery.”

“The dialysis is no longer working. The infection has spread to all my organs. I only have an hour left at most.” He eyed Xonea. “Give me a launch. I’ll send a signal to the raiders and draw them away from the colony.” He ned raiders fly in tight formation. We’ll need to rig the core for a five-kim blast radius.”

“No. I won’t allow you to do this,” I told him, furious now. “The Sunlace is a powerful ship. Xonea can attack the raiders. We’ll send rescue teams down to the surface. Shon.”

The oKiaf led me outside the room and looked down at me. “You will let me go.”

“I have no intentions of—”

Crystal claws touched my mouth, silencing me. “You will let me go because I love you. I love you, more than even Jadaira, and I will never have you. This is the way I choose to die. So that you and Reever and the Torin and the colonists may live.”

“I can’t.” I saw Reever and gave him a beseeching look. “Please, Duncan, don’t let him do this.”

My husband held out his hand, and Shon put his paw in it. The two stared at each other in silence for a long time.

“Major,” Reever said. “I am a telepath. I have seen. You know how it must be.”

“I had hoped otherwise.” Shon’s remaining eye closed, and then opened. “Very well. I will see you in medical, Healer.” He limped off.

I stared after him. “How did you do that?”

“Major Valtas has many gifts. One of them is foresight. He knows this is not his time to die.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t explain it, Jarn, but I feel it just as you do. He is more important than we know. Whatever the cost, we must do everything necessary to keep him alive.”

Xonea joined us. “In the event anyone cares for my opinion,” he said, “I am not sending a dying man out on a rigged launch. He is too sick to pilot it.”

I glanced at him. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”

He made an uneasy gesture. “I know it is wrong. Likely that alien female did something to my brain. However, Shon’s idea still has some merit. One pilot flying a launch rigged for core overload might destroy the entire fleet.”

“You can’t deliberately send one of the crew to their death,” I argued. “The raiders have scanners. They will know Shon isn’t on the launch.”

“I never said I would use a living pilot,” Xonea chided. “We have drones for that. Duncan, can you program one of the portable simulator units to project a duplicate of Major Valtas?”

My husband nodded. “I will need some of Shon’s DNA. The simulator can duplicate him exactly from it.” He glanced at me. “Do you have any hair or tissue samples I can use?”

“I’ve taken a few blood samples for analysis,” I said. “I’ll send those down to launch bay. Are you sure this will deceive them?”

“I have used a similar ploy in the past. Once I made a group of attacking slavers believe that my ship was crewed by two hundred Hsktskt,” my husband told me. “I can manage a convincing simulation of the major.”

Xonea and Reever went to rig the launch while I returned to medical to retrieve the blood samples. Herea met me in the lab and told me that Shon had returned, but his condition was deteriorating rapidly.

“We may have to intubate him soon,” she said, showing me the latest scans.

I gave the blood samples to one of the orderlies and sent him to launch bay before I went in to assess Shon. He was unconscious, his breathing labored. My readings showed that the crystal groon /div>

“I don’t need him to hear or talk to me,” I said. “I’m taking him back to medical.”

Shon shook his head, and pointed toward the panel. I saw one of the Sunlace’s launches slowly flying away from the ship, and all of the raider vessels in a tight cluster pursuing it. As I watched, something emerged from the surface of a nearby moon and flew on an intercept course for the launch.

I heard the low, resonant humming again, only this time it was coming from Shon’s body. The oKiaf sagged but kept himself from falling by clutching the frame of the panel. At the same time Reever’s face twisted with pain and he pressed his hands to the sides of his head.

The hum blanked out my thoughts, and I moved toward them like a nightwalker, no longer in control of my body. My husband was not using a link to do this; I felt something else—a warm and gentle presence that wrapped around me and spread through me.

I couldn’t free myself, and so I watched with the men as the ship that had launched from the moon picked up speed. As it drew closer, I saw that it wasn’t a proper vessel but an enormous transparent bubble filled with an equally gigantic worm.

Swap.

Perhaps it was the distortion of the space between us, but the worm appeared much larger than he had on Trellus. When it drew near the launch and the raiders, the bubble expanded around the worm and came to a stop directly in front of the Odnallak ships. Then it charged the raider fleet.

One by one the ships tried to evade Swap’s strange vessel, but the bubble sent out transparent pseudopods and pulled them into itself. As each ship was taken into the bubble, Swap began enveloping them, until he had completely devoured the raiders.

“I have them now, Jarn,” Reever said in Swap’s voice. “I regret I could not intervene sooner, but I had to acquire enough energy to move into the next stage before I attempted this. You will help Mercy and the others on Trellus? They have many wounded.”

Yes. We will go down to the surface as soon as we return. I couldn’t answer with my mouth, so I used my thoughts. Swap, you can’t hold those ships forever.

“Ah, I see my friend Duncan did not actually put the oKiaf on the launch. Very clever—that even fooled me.” One of bubble’s pseudopods stretched out impossibly long, caught the launch, and brought it back to join the others. “This will help finish it. I would stay and talk with you, Doctor, but my mind is already fading.”

Suddenly I understood what was happening to Swap. You’re evolving.

“Unfortunately so. I could not hold it off forever, Jarn. The crystal has been calling me for centuries, but now . . . it will no longer wait.” Reever came to me and kissed my brow. “You are all very courageous beings. I know you will find the answers that I could not.”

The bubble changed direction and began to pick up speed again. I was released from the telepathic control over my body, and rushed to the panel to press my hands against it.

The Odnallak ships fired through the worm as they tried to shoot their way out of his mass. It had no effect on him, and as the bubble disappeared into the star’s corona, the launch exploded, destroying everything inside the bubble but the worm. As it began to turn yellow-gref light toward the Sunlace, and when it impacted the ship, I lost consciousness.

I woke facedown on the deck, my nose and mouth bleeding. Painfully, I rose and looked over at Reever and Shon. Both of them lay unmoving on the deck.

“Duncan.” I crawled over to him and shook him, but he didn’t respond. “Duncan, wake up.” He didn’t move, and when I checked his pulse, I found it dangerously slow. Shon was also barely alive.

I dragged myself over to the com panel and signaled medical.

A dazed nurse replied. “Healer, you are needed here. We have many wounded.”

“There are two more on the observation deck,” I said, wiping the blood from my mouth on my sleeve. “Send some help down here.”

Twenty

I sent the nurses to attend to the rest of the wounded, and stationed myself between Reever’s and Shon’s berths. For hours I watched their vitals, administered synaptic stimulants at regular intervals, and performed every scan I could think of, but nothing changed. Both men remained locked in a deep, unchanging comatose state, their life signs barely registering.

I even tried to reach Duncan through my mind, holding his hands and opening my thoughts as I always did when he forged a link with me. Whatever kept him comatose also prevented any telepathic connection; I felt as if I were slamming into an endless, immovable blank wall.

Was his mind gone? Was there nothing left to wake up?

Refusing to admit defeat, I began skimming through records of coma cases, looking for any treatment that might prove effective. What little I could glean from the database only made me feel sick. Few deep coma patients ever regained consciousness; most remained in the paralyzed, vegetative state until their organs shut down or life support was removed.

The hours dragged, and time lost meaning. I accepted a server of tea from one of the nurses and held it until it turned cold between my hands. I watched my husband’s still face, silently praying to see a single muscle twitch or an eyelash move. He lay motionless but for his chest rising and falling in rhythm with the oxygen being forced into his lungs by the ventilator.

“Jarn.”

I looked up to see Xonea looming over me. “There has been no change yet.” Was that growl my voice? I cleared my throat. “Forgive me. It’s been a long night.”

“You have been here for three nights and days.” Gently he removed the datapad from my hands. “I will send in a nurse to monitor Duncan and Shon. You must go and sleep now.”

“I’m not tired.” I stood and adjusted the drip on Duncan’s IV. “How long until we reach Joren?”

“Unless engineering can repair the damage to the transitional generators, it will be several weeks.” Strong hands turned me around. “I spoke to the nurses. There is nothing more you can do for them.”

“They’re wrong. That is why they are nurses and I am the doctor.” I pushed him out of my way and went around to the other side of Duncan’s berth. “As soon as their vital signs improve, I’ll be able to administer stronger stimulants. That will ccety remove you,” Xonea said.

I picked up a suture laser and enabled it. “Then my nurses will have more work to do, because I am not leaving.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Xonea rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Very well. Signal me if there is a change.”

Xonea left. There were no changes. I tested each of the monitors to ensure that they were functioning, and then returned to my case studies. I finished reading all the records on humanoid coma cases and went on to read the reports on nonhumanoids. I read so much that my eyes began to itch and then burn.

I switched off the terminal and rested my head against my hand. I needed some saline wash to refresh my eyes, and perhaps something to eat, if I could force my tight throat to swallow. I would get up in a minute and take care of it, I thought. I could rest my eyes for a moment.

“Jarn.”

I opened my eyes to see my husband watching me. “Duncan? You’re awake.” I stumbled to my feet and looked at his monitors, but they were all dark.

“I’m here.” He rose from the berth, pulling the infus ers and IV port from his arms as he stood and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

“I can’t leave Shon.” I turned and nearly bumped into a dark-furred chest. “Oh, my God. You’re awake, too.”

The oKiaf steadied me. “No, Jarn. Not yet.”

I saw Shon’s still body on the berth behind him and turned to Duncan, who stood next to his own. “There can’t be two of you. I must be dreaming.”

“No.” Duncan took my hand and interlaced our fingers as the medical bay vanished, leaving us to stand in an open field surrounded by white mist. “You’re awake.”

The tall grass around us appeared to be frozen, until I saw that the delicate blades were covered with frost. “Has the weather changed on Joren?”

“Everything changes.” The fur of Shon’s paw brushed the back of my hand as he looked at Reever. “Do you understand what has to be done?”

My husband nodded and turned his head. “Better than he did.”

My joy faded as I saw another man standing off in the distance. “Why is he here?”

Joseph Grey Veil lifted his hand and then disappeared into the wall of mist surrounding the field.

“He was the first,” Duncan said, as if that explained everything. “You don’t have to be afraid of him, beloved. Or of me, or Shon.”

“I’m not afraid.” I was perplexed, however. I knew I was supposed to be somewhere else, doing something else, but all that seemed important was being here. Then I felt something slip from my hair, and reached out my hand. A small purple flower landed on my palm and turned to crystal. “What does it mean?”

“Everything. Nothing.” Shon took my hand. “We have a little time left.”

Duncan nodded and twined his fingers through mine. “Time enough for a walk.”

I felt like laughing and crying, but I was too relieved to be with them to do anything more than walk. The frost-covered grasses parted before us, offering a wide path of amber soil etched with scrolls of salt.

“When the universe was young, so were its people,” Shon said. “They thought like children, and so they behaved. The greatest darkness, born in the most innocent of hearts.”

~P [ size="3">I saw the mist wall darkening around the edges of the field, and felt the air grow cold. “We fight the darkness. We have to.”

“But we are wrong,” Duncan said.

I stopped and pulled my hands free to wrap my arms around my waist. “I’m cold.”

“You were born on the ice,” Shon reminded me. “Do you remember why?”

“No.” Suddenly, deeply afraid, I turned to Reever. “I can’t remember. I don’t want to. Please don’t make me.”

“I am with you, Waenara.” He looked over my head at Shon. “Is there no other way? I love her.”

“As do I,” the oKiaf said. “But there is only one path.” Shon gestured toward the blackened mist. “It is time to take it.”

The men walked away from me and I tried to follow, but the icy grass wrapped around my legs, holding me in place. “Duncan. Shon. Don’t leave me. Please, I want to go with you.”

My husband looked back and almost turned around, but Shon put his arm on his shoulders and urged him along.

“Shon, please, no. I can’t lose you both.” I screamed that, and Duncan’s name, until the cold grass wrapped around my throat and choked off my voice.

You must heal her. Heal her.

I grabbed my head, pressing my hands against my ears to block out the sound of a million voices, all speaking in unison. I pitched over into the grass, shattering the stiff blades.

You must heal her. Heal her. Heal her.

Healer, please wake up.

Healer, please.

Healer.

I tore myself out of the dream and into consciousness. I was back in the medical bay, sitting in the isolation room. I had fallen asleep at the console.

A hum buzzed against my ears, and I turned my head to look at Reever’s berth, afraid of what I would see.

A mound of Lok-Teel covered my husband’s body; the largest had completely engulfed his head. Each one bulged and flexed as if they were eating him.

The Lok-Teel lived by consuming waste. If Duncan had died while I was asleep—

I wrenched myself upright and lunged at the berth, grabbing and pulling away the mold as I shouted for the nurses.

Jorenians filled the isolation room, and many hands helped me strip the Lok-Teel clinging to my husband’s body. Behind me I heard a similar commotion, and I looked back to see three nurses working on Shon, who, like Duncan, was covered with the mold.

“Get them off quickly.” I struggled to free the one wrapped around Reever’s head, peeling it off his mouth and nose. As soon as I pulled it out of his hair, I flung it across the room and checked the ventilator junction, which had come apart from the tube in Reever’s throat. I heard breathing sounds, however, and quickly removed the tube.

“He’s breathing on his own.” All the monitor leads had been disconnected from his body, so I groped for a scanner and passed it over his chest. His vital signs were strong and stable. Why wasn’t he awake?

“Duncan.” I put a hand on his cheek and stroked it. “Duncan, can you hear me? Open your eyes.”

He did not respond to my voice, and I performed a cscan. My readings made no sense; his brain wave activity had increased three hundred percent. Even using every synaptic connection in his head, Reever couldn’t register at these levels.

I tossed aside the scanner and called for another as I checked his pupils, which dilated normally.

I had never seen such levels of brain activity in any being. The only way I could think to disrupt it was to sedate him or subject him to a bioelectric pulse. Both might send him back into a coma.

“Healer Jarn,” a nurse working on Shon called. “The oKiaf is conscious.”

“Watch his monitors,” I told the nurse beside me, and went to the other berth, forcing a smile as I met Shon’s dark gaze. “That was some nap you took.”

“I feel very rested,” he said, and sat up as if nothing were wrong with him. He raised his hands and turned them over. “The crystal is gone.”

The scan I performed told me the same thing—not a trace of crystal remained in his blood, tissues, or bone. I glanced down to see the Lok-Teel that had been removed from his body creeping out of the room. They seemed much larger now, and moved sluggishly—as if they had eaten an enormous meal.

Somehow they had done the impossible and removed the crystal that had been killing Shon. But what had they done to Reever?

“You don’t have to worry about that funerary ritual anymore,” I told the oKiaf, and issued orders to run a comprehensive series of scans on him. Then I turned back to my husband. “Any change?”

“No, Healer.” The nurse handed me a new scanner with a fresh set of readings. His brain wave activity remained at unimaginable levels. “Shon, if you feel well enough to get out of that berth—”

He was already standing next to me, and placed one of his paws on Reever’s forehead as he closed his eyes. All of the fur on his arm stood up as a faint glow spread out over my husband’s face.

I bit my lip as I watched, but after only a few moments the glow faded and Shon took away his paw.

“He is not injured or ill,” the oKiaf told me. “I don’t know what is causing the synaptic overload, but I can do nothing to stop it.” He swayed a little.

“Get back into your berth and stay there.”

Desperately, I tried again to forge a link between us, but this time instead of the blank wall, a stream of raw power shoved me back into my own head so hard I nearly blacked out.

When my head cleared, I called for a gurney. “We’re moving him to the neurosurgical suite.”

We shifted Duncan’s body onto the gurney and I pushed it out of the isolation room. If I didn’t bring his brain wave activity down to normal levels, and soon, his synapses would overload, become damaged, or even burn out.

As we moved Duncan from the gurney to the treatment table, I mentally ran through the Terran conditions I knew that caused neurotransmitter disorders. One by one I discarded their treatment options, all of which would either have no effect or were too dangerous to try on a comatose patient. I needed a noninvasive method of regulating brain waves that would not cause his higher or lower functions to be impeded or shut down.

Excessive, rapid discharge of the nerve cells . . .

me free, and I pulled it out of his chest.

The nurse held the open container under the probe, and I dropped it and the crystal inside. I turned back to watch Shon heal the incision, and then looked up at the EEG monitor.

The number of lines displayed slowly began to diminish, one by one, until Reever’s brain wave activity had been reduced to that of a normal sleep pattern.

“Keep him on monitor and prepare to run a chest series.” My shoulders slumped as my adrenaline ran out and I felt the weight of exhaustion grinding into my bones. “If his vitals remain stable, we’ll move him over to the critical-care room, and then . . . and . . .” I frowned, trying to concentrate. “Do whatever else needs to be done.”

“Jarn.” Shon brought a linen to me and wiped my husband’s blood from my hands. “Let me see to him.”

I looked up at him. “You were dying thirty minutes ago. Besides, I have a few hundred tests I have to run on you, too.” If I could just remember what they were.

“I think they can wait. Come.” He guided me out of the suite. “There are two berths in critical care. I think Duncan would like yours to be the first face he sees when he wakes.”

So would I.

I waited until they brought Duncan to the critical-care room before I occupied the adjoining berth. The moment I did, exhaustion became my dictator and I bowed to its will. I closed my eyes, wondering if I might have another of the crystal dreams, but nothing came but blessed, mindless darkness. Later, one of the nurses told me that I had slept so deeply that I didn’t move once in eighteen hours.

I woke, as Shon had promised, still looking at my husband’s face. I reached across the narrow space between our berths and touched his hand, my fingers pressing against the pulse point in his wrist.

Slowly, Duncan turned his hand and covered mine. “How long have I been unconscious?”

I glanced at my wristcom. “Almost five days.” I sat up, wincing as my unused muscles protested, and made my way over to him. “Do you remember anything?”

“Swap embracing the stars. Pain. Walking with you and Shon through a field of crystal.” He frowned. “It must have been a dream. Your father was there.”

“You had a piece of crystal lodged in your chest.” I touched the place where I had cut it out of him. “When Swap died, you and Shon collapsed and went into deep comas. He did that to you, didn’t he? Through the crystal.”

Reever sat up and slowly shook his head. “He wasn’t trying to hurt us. He was a powerful telepath, on an order I can’t even begin to describe. He projected his last thoughts to the crystal, hoping it would relay them to one of us.”

“His last thoughts plus the crystal could have killed you.” I didn’t want to know what they were. “Shon only remembers the suicide, and nothing after that.”

“It wasn’t Swap’s fault,” Reever insisted. “We are very primitive compared to him.”

“Swap was a larval life-form,” I said. “There is very little more primitive than that.”

“Rogur live for eons. Swap came to consciousness before the Jxin formed their first tribal settlement. Suppressing his development allowed him to retain his sense of reason and awareness of othize="understand everything he encountered, and in the end I think he did.” My husband’s voice fell to a near whisper. “Jarn, compared to us, Swap was like a god.”

Reever might find that wondrous, but I had seen what communicating with Swap had done to his mind. My husband had come very close to having his brain fried by the telepathic powers of the worm-god. “Why would he bother trying to send a message to us, then?”

“He told me that we were wrong about the black crystal,” Reever said. “It is not a disease or an enemy. It is beyond that, a part of the fabric of all things that have been or will be. The Odnallak did not create it; they only gave it form. And no matter what we do, it cannot be destroyed.”

“I don’t understand. Maggie said it was sleeping now, but when it wakes up, it will destroy every living being in the universe.”

“Swap knew this. He, too, said it would happen—unless we can stop it before it awakens.”

I threw my hands up. “How are we to stop something that we can’t destroy?”

“I think that part of the message he meant for you.” Reever took my hands in his. “He said you could stop it. By healing it.”

I drew back. “Healing a mineral. Dævena Yepa, Duncan, how am I to do that? Rub it down with silica? Feed it iron supplements? It’s not alive. It doesn’t feel pain. It’s barely organic.”

“I can’t tell you. Even with all his knowledge, Swap didn’t know how it could be done, or I think he would have done it. That is why he sent the message to me and Shon; why he risked killing us to do so. He hoped that one of us would live and remember enough to tell you.”

“Tell me what? Riddles with no answers? If he did not know how to heal the crystal, then how could he expect that of us? We are only . . .” I trailed off and closed my eyes as I realized the answer to my own question.

“We are immortal,” Reever finished. “As he was.”

“So if we do not die, we will have the time to acquire knowledge as he did. Then all we must do is formulate a cure. For sick rocks.” Bitterness soured my voice. “For the sake of the universe, we must stay forever young and watch our friends, our allies, our daughter grow old and die.”

Xonea came into the room. “It is good to see you awake, Duncan.” He turned to me. “Jarn, there is something wrong with the Lok-Teel. They have gathered in one spot and have attached themselves to the deck.”

“They’re probably sleeping,” I said. “They prefer to be stationary when they rest.”

“They’re in the survey lab, and they’re not sleeping,” my ClanBrother told me. “They appear to be melting.”

Reever felt well enough to accompany me down the corridor to the survey lab, which remained sealed off from the rest of the ship.

“How did they get past the buffer seals?” Reever asked Xonea.

“An alarm went off a few minutes ago, indicating that the buffer had been breached, then reset itself. I came down to investigate.” Xonea gestured toward the welded door panels to the lab. “That is what I found.”

The door panels appeared as if they had been peeled away to form an uneven opening. In the center of the buffer field, a ring of Lok-Teel hung, tightly constricted. Beyond them lay a peemed to be turning to liquid—melting, exactly as Xonea had described.

“Have you scanned the lab?” I asked, studying the bizarre scene.

“I attempted to,” Xonea said. “Whatever is happening in there, it does not register at all on our equipment. My scanner does not even detect the mass of mold.”

“They absorbed all of the crystal infecting Shon’s body. It must be the reason they’re melting instead of freezing.” I turned and saw Reever’s expression. “What is it?”

He grabbed my wrist and linked with me. Go back to medical and wait for me there.

I’m not leaving you. I squinted as a bright light erupted from the interior of the wrecked lab, and put up my hand to block it.

The Lok-Teel had disintegrated into a pool of clear liquid, which began to shrink in on itself as a column of light rose from the pool’s center. The light intensified, turning all the alloy around it red with heat. Distantly, I heard alarms ringing and the pounding of running footsteps, but I could not move my eyes away from the light.

The column of light turned to semiliquid crystal, which flowed into the form of a humanoid being. As it solidified, the light dimmed, but the crystal remained transparent. The pool vanished under the feet of the crystal being.

It had no features or gender, only four limbs, a torso, and a head. When it moved toward the buffer, I was able to turn my head. Reever looked frozen. Xonea fell to his knees beside me and began murmuring a prayer to the Mother of All Houses.

I moved closer to the buffer, until there were only a few inches between me and the crystal being. I saw the protocrystal form a mouth on the front of the head, which smiled at me before it opened to speak. I heard its voice inside my head.

Were you able to defeat the mercenaries? it asked.

“Yes,” I said out loud. “Their ship was destroyed by the larval rogur.”

The head nodded. You and your comrades have done well, child.

It felt so familiar to me that I almost tried to reach through the buffer to touch it. “Who are you?”

The regular and periodic arrangement of atoms within a structure is a characteristic not only of crystals but of nearly all solid matter. It spoke in Reever’s voice, repeating his words to me. In that sense, every inorganic thing you can touch is crystalline in nature.

“I don’t understand.” Frustration welled up inside me. “Are you alive? Are you the crystal?”

It didn’t answer me. Add something that is not—heat, radiation, a soul—and the structure is transformed or destroyed . . . or becomes something that cannot be named.

It was trying to tell me something important. “You mean that you have no name?”

Before the light was brought from the darkness, they had no name. Before the heavens were lifted above the earth, they had no name. Before the beginning was taken from the end, they had no name. Divided, they chase each other, always apart but forever longing for what was. Needing to be whole. To be heaousness after the crystalline being vanished,” Reever said. He brushed some hair back from my eyes. “I think she’s all right.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but attributed that to trauma-induced amnesia. “Can I get off this berth? I’m sure someone else can put it to better use.”

Reever helped me down and pulled me into his arms, hugging me so tightly I squeaked when I tried to breathe. “Forgive me,” he said, setting me at arm’s length. “I thought I had lost you.”

“I’m right here.” I didn’t like the way everyone was staring at me. “Are there any wounded?”

“No. None.” He kissed me.

I enjoyed the embrace, although I felt a little uncomfortable kissing my husband in front of the entire medical staff. Normally, Reever wasn’t this demonstrative; I must have scared him pretty badly this time.

“Hey.” I drew back and grinned. “I’m not going anywhere. Tell me about this crystalline being. How did it get on the ship?”

“The Lok-Teel liquefied themselves into a pool of protocrystal. The being formed itself out of their remains. I couldn’t hear it, but I think it spoke to you.” He cradled my face between his hands. “You don’t remember any of it, do you?”

“No, but it seems like I’m a little blurry on a lot of things.” I rubbed the sore spot just above my right temple. “You’re sure I didn’t hit my head on something? It feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it.”

Reever’s face turned to stone. “You know what a sledgehammer is?”

“A large hand tool used to smash holes in very hard things. Like my skull.” I probed one temple and grimaced. “Whatever they did hit me with, it worked.”

My husband grabbed my shoulders in an iron grip. “What is your name?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I laughed, until I saw he wasn’t. “Reever, I’m drawing a whole stack of blanks here, but I do remember my name, and yours, and . . .” I looked around me and didn’t see a single familiar face. “Okay. Wait a minute.”

Reever released me, and his hands fell to his sides.

The tall, furry resident who had been scanning me on the table put one paw on my shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, Healer Jarn.”

I didn’t know who he was, but he was a little too touchy-feely for my liking. “Keep your paws to yourself, pal.” So I turned to the one face I did know—my husband’s. “Duncan, what the hell is going on? Who are these people? How did I get here?”

He didn’t answer me. “Tell me your name.”

“What, did you forget?” I laughed, but it made my head hurt. “Reever, it’s me. Cherijo. Cherijo Torin Reever. Your wife.”

He stared at me for a long time. “Jarn.” He strode out of the room.

“Right.” Utterly mystified now, I turned to the resident. “Who’s Jarn?”

About the Author

S. L. Viehl lives in Florida with her family. A USAF veteran, she has medical experience from both military and civilian trauma centers.