Beyond Varallan (36 page)

His hand curved around my neck, and he pulled me down against him. He was shaking. So was I, for that matter. When I lifted my head, I saw tears streaming down his temples into his dark hair.

It appeared the score would be Cherijo—one, the stars—zero.

“Still want your Speaker?” I asked. He shook his head and openly sobbed. I stood and turned toward the ogling nurses. “Everybody see that?”

Everybody nodded.

“Good. Squilyp.” The Omorr was so intent on Yetlo’s tears that he looked at me, dazed. “Let's move on to the next case.”

I marched to the adjoining berth, and picked up the chart. Sniffed. Blotted my face with the edge of my sleeve. Squilyp hopped up alongside me.

“Senior Healer, that was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen a physician do.” His gildrells undulated madly. “Also one of the smartest. No one suspected you were bluffing.”

I switched the chart to display and sniffed again. “Who said I was bluffing?”

By the end of my shift, Yetlo was showing remarkable improvement. Maybe it was the return of his will to live. Maybe he was terrified he might
accidentally
die and be responsible for my suicide anyway. Whatever the reason, his vitals never looked better. I’d have to write an article on
Death Threats as an Alternative Method of Postoperative Therapy for Jorenian Surgical Patients
.

My surgical resident spent a lot of time muttering to himself and staring at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. I suspected he wanted to request a transfer to another ship with a more rational Senior Healer.

Poor Squilyp. Working for me was going to give him a permanent gildrell-twitch.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Part of the Connection

«
^
»

A
fter final rounds I went directly to my quarters to get cleaned up. I was looking forward to the meal with Salo, Darea, and Fasala. My anticipation had nothing to do with the argument I’d had with Xonea. Nothing at all.

Xonea walked through the door panel as soon as I’d finished dressing. He appeared quite formidable in his new Captain's tunic. Jenner streaked across the desk and did his best to wrap himself around Xonea's ankle. I resisted the urge to salute. He picked up Jenner and studied me.

“Why are you wearing that garment?”

I glanced down at the red dress Ana Hansen had given me long ago during my tenure on K-2. “Why not? I like it.” I did a small twirl, making the bottom half flare out around my thighs. “What do you think?”

He leaned back against a wall panel and cradled my cat against his chest. Narrow white eyes noted the fact I had put sparkling red accessories in my ears and around my wrists. My silver-sheened dark hair was piled on the top of my head.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he stroked Jenner. A familiar expression of discomfort passed over his strong face, and I glared at him.

“You still haven’t gone for that internal scan yet, have you?” He shook his head. “It's going to look very odd when the Senior Healer's roommate keels over from an untreated, perforated ulcer.”

His mouth curled. “I am sure you will endeavor to save me.”

Maybe not. “Of course I would.”

Xonea gestured toward my outfit. “Is this your method of apologizing for provoking this morning’s altercation?”

The man had thrown
me
across a room and thought I should apologize. One simply had to admire that kind of gall.

“No.” I stuck the last pin in the sleek coil. Stepped back to check my appearance in the mirror panel one last time. “Feed Jenner for me, will you?”

I walked past him toward the door. Six fingers stopped me with little effort. There was a dangerous set to his features, one I’d seen earlier. Jenner shot out of Xonea's arms with a yowl.

“Where are you going?”

I smiled brightly. Picked his hand off my arm. Dropped it the way I would a soiled glove into a disposal unit.

“Out.”

Xonea didn’t follow me. I was almost disappointed. We could have had a rip-roaring fight right there in the corridor. Let the crew in on our little secret. I wondered who they'd side with. The defiant little woman, or her abusive ball-and-chain.

Darea and Sale’s quarters were on level twelve. I arrived just in time to greet Salo as he came off duty. He gestured for me to proceed him, then held out his arms for the little girl who came barreling past me. Fasala flung herself on Salo.

“ClanFather!” She squealed as he picked her up and tossed her in the air. The little girl was caught, kissed, and returned to the deck. Darea came to her bondmate at a more sedate speed, but her greeting was as warm and loving as their daughter’s.

All three turned to give me belated and apologetic greetings.

“Okay, okay,” I said, and laughed. “Consider me welcomed!”

“Your pardon, Senior Healer,” Salo said.

“Please, call me Cherijo,” I replied. “If you keep calling me Senior Healer, I’ll have to make chart notations!”

They all laughed as we walked inside. Salo excused himself to get cleansed and changed for the evening meal.

Fasala proceeded to haul me at once to her room. I was shown each of her HouseClan flags, the vast selection of toys she kept in a tidy storage compartment, and her favorite sleep cuddler, a stuffed fabric
t’lerue
.

“So that’s what they look like.” I examined the benign-looking model of the ponderous creature. Fasala explained that on Joren, the slightly dull-witted
t’lerue
often planted itself in front of a reservoir and would not move sometimes for months. I recalled Tonetka calling Roelm a
t’lerue
several times, and smiled sadly.

Darea chided Fasala for monopolizing me and escorted me through the remainder of their quarters.

“You’ve got a beautiful dwelling,” I said as Darea gave me the tour. Family quarters were arranged to render both efficiency and privacy: A large living and dining area were combined, while separate bedrooms were partitioned on either side with their own individual cleansing units.

Salo, I learned, was an amateur geologist. He had a display case full of interesting specimens from a dozen worlds. Darea, in keeping with her profession, collected actual paper documents and showed me a shelf of real
books
.

“I’ve never held a book in my hands before,” I said as Darea urged me to examine one ancient volume. I was afraid to touch it. Fasala bounced on my lap and flipped open the old animal-skin binding.

“Look, Healer, see?” She pointed to a bewildering block of Jorenian pictographs. “This says,
Be aware always, for the path changes beneath your feet
.” She grinned. “Our HouseClan once made such odd things. It was all they had to preserve their knowledge.”

“Primitive idea, isn’t it?” I said, carefully tracing a fingertip over the dried, pressed leaf of plant pulp. “My people used books in ancient times, too.”

Fasala frowned. “But…
we
are your people, are we not, Healer Cherijo?”

Darea and I exchanged a glance.

“Yes, Fasala, you are my people. But I was born on a planet called Terra. Before I was adopted by HouseClan Torin, I was Terran.”

“You won’t go back there, will you?” the little girl asked. “Perhaps we can make your skin blue, and remove the spots from your eyes. Then you will belong to us.”

She was precious, I thought. And thoroughly confused. “My skin will never be blue, honey. Nor my eyes white. But I’ll tell you what: It doesn't matter. Because I am Jorenian in here.” I tapped my chest.

“Oh.” Fasala thought this over, and smiled. “Smooth path, Healer Cherijo.” It was “okay” with her.

I was invited to the dining area for tea while Fasala was sent for her nightly cleansing. Darea refused to let me assist with the preparations for the meal. Instead, I was made to sit while she chatted over her shoulder about popular Jorenian recipe programs. Something that smelled delicious quickly emerged from her food unit.

“You are hungry?” she asked as she placed the heavy server of steaming vegetables on the table.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a meal interval,” I said. I was permitted to assist Fasala with her evening chore of setting places for the meal. Salo emerged just as Darea placed ice-cold servers of znobell juice at each plate.

“At this time we entreat the Mother,” Fasala whispered, slipping her hand in mine after we sat down. “You have to close your eyes. My ClanFather says the words to offer our thanks for bounty and togetherness.”

“Got it,” I whispered back.

“Mother of All Houses, this day we are indebted to you as all days before and to come,” Salo said. “For this meal, our friends and family, we give thanks. Smile upon our House forever.”

Fasala nudged me. “You can open your eyes now, Healer Cherijo.”

The meal, the main course of which Darea called g’loho dibnarra, was incredible. I had to take some programming lessons from this woman. I particularly enjoyed the dessert, which was a frozen, edible flower that was eaten one petal at a time. The sweet, delicate confection melted on my tongue like a candied snowflake.

“Don’t give me the recipe program for the dessert,” I said. “I'd outweigh Salo in a week!”

Another enjoyable aspect of the evening meal was simply watching the family interact. I remembered the meal intervals I had taken with my creator for years. Drones served our every need back on Terra, so all I had to do was sit, eat, and listen to Joseph Grey Veil lecture me on some aspect of Terran medicine.

In contrast, Salo and Darea discussed ordinary events of the day. Planned future schedules. Even disagreed over the amount of some spice Darea favored in her prep programming. Fasala wasn’t left out, either. She was asked about her day at school. What work she had accomplished. The activities she enjoyed with her friends. Darea actually apologized for it as I later helped her clear the table.

“Your pardon, we did not converse with you very much. We always use meal intervals to remain knowledgeable of one other’s activities.” She made an embarrassed gesture. “As you can guess, we do not often have guests.”

“I loved it,” I said as I sterilized the servers and handed them to her to be replaced in storage. “You have nothing to apologize for. I envy you your family.”

Darea glanced fondly at her bondmate and child. They were reading a display primer, Fasala laboriously forming the words, Salo regularly praising her efforts.

“They are my world.” She looked back at me. “What say you of having children with Xonea? You would be an exceptional ClanMother.”

I was exceptional, that much was true. I shook my head. “It isn’t possible now.” Or ever, I added silently.

“Xonea honors you, Cherijo.”

“Xonea needs a good kick in the—” I bit my lip, then tried again. “Xonea wants what Xonea wants.”

“He is a warrior,” Darea said, as if that excused everything.

“So is your bondmate. How would your relationship with Salo be, if he… got physical when you argued?”

“I am warrior-trained as well.” Darea’s eyes danced. “Salo and I would alternate occupying berths in the Medical Bay, I think.”

We giggled together like girls.

“ClanMother? Healer?” Fasala piped up from the living area. “What do you find amusing?”

“Your ClanFather,” we answered her at the same time, and giggled again.

“Darea,” Salo said her name with a warning rumble in his chest.

“My bondmate displays his warrior’s pride for your benefit,“ Darea said as we finished up in the preparation area. ”He is not half so dignified, or so fierce, when we are private.“

Fasala was sent off to bed soon after that. The little girl would have protested more, but enormous yawns weren’t backing up her claim to be wide awake. I wished her pleasant dreams.

“Sometimes I do not,” the child confessed. “I dream of the time I was hurt with my educators. I am still afraid of that place on level fourteen. Even walking past it frightens me.”

Fasala needed to face her fear, I realized, not tiptoe past it.

“Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t you and I go back there together? You'll feel better when you see there's nothing there to hurt you, and I bet it will make the nightmares go away.”

“Will they, Healer Cherijo?”

“Sure.”

I found myself being ferociously hugged by small arms flung around my neck. For a traitorous instant, I imagined she was my child.

Salo carried Fasala back to her sleeping platform. I would have left myself, but Darea asked me to remain.

“I—we would like to show you something, Senior Healer,” she said. Her bondmate had returned to the living area and frowned when he heard that. “Salo, you said I might tell someone of it.”

He ran six fingers through his dark hair. “I said you might
tell
, Darea.”

“Please. Healer Cherijo will appreciate the curious nature of this.” She pretended to think for a moment. “Of course, I could
tell
your ClanCousin Tareo. He often finds amusement in—”

“Tell anyone—
show
anyone—but Tareo.” Salo groaned. “I beg you.”

Darea jumped up and hurried out of the room. A moment later she returned, carrying a rather bulky, fabric-draped object in her arms.

“Do you remember the sentient crystal given to us while we sojourned at Garnot?”

I nodded. “It was truly the loveliest thing I’d ever seen.”

Salo appeared supremely embarrassed as Darea placed the object on the deck in front of us. She placed her hand on it and looked ready to burst from excitement.

“The crystal we chose was shaped like our Clan-Daughter. Do you remember it?” I nodded. “When we returned to the ship, I placed it on a display stand near our sleeping platform.”

“Thank the Mother.” Salo scowled. “To think it could have been in this room, for all who entered to view!”

Darea glared at him, then turned back to me. “Healer, the crystal did not retain its shape. We believe it wishes to continue to be impressed by our thoughts.”