Endurance (36 page)

“How did they know we would be doing a bunk there?” he said as we approached TssVar’s chamber.

“Huh?” I’d been busy pondering the sort of discipline TssVar would administer, and took a moment to process the question. “You mean FurreVa? She was reporting for a follow-up eval.”

“I’m thinking she has a sleeveen working for her. One of those patchers you work with.”

I tried to imagine Vlaav, Zella, or Pmohhi spilling the beans to the Hsktskt. Zella might have, before she and I had worked out our little difficulties. Pmohhi had no love for the Hsktskt. Vlaav … perpetually nervous, pacifistic Vlaav … “I don’t think so.”

FurreVa pressed some keys to request permission to enter, then gestured for us to go in as the door panel slid to one side. TssVar sat behind a new, strange-looking console I hadn’t seen before, and rose slowly to regard me and Gael with glittering eyes.

“What has she done now?”

“I caught her hiding two prisoners. I detained this one”—FurreVa nodded toward Gael—“but the second escaped. He is injured, I will track him.”

“Carry on.” TssVar waited until FurreVa left before stomping around his new toy. “Members of the Faction do not harbor runaway slaves.”

“I guess someone forgot to give me the Faction rule book. This whole thing was my idea.” I ignored Gael’s incredulous stare. “Prisoner Kelly had no choice but to do as I told him.”

“An effort to deflect blame, Doctor?”

“No. Just taking responsibility for my actions.”

“SrrokVar indicated you were most reluctant to see others suffer in your place. A telling revelation about your character, he said.” TssVar scrutinized Gael for a moment. “This prisoner is a habitual problem. HalaVar will not be pleased to learn of this.”

“HalaVar can go skating on the surface without a helmet.” I smiled as though the thought amused me. My tunic started getting damp between the shoulder blades.

“I will allow prisoner Kelly to return to the general population,” the Hsktskt said. “In return for your information and cooperation.”

I had no idea where Noarr was, or where he regularly hung out, other than his ship. And he’d moved that. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

“You may go, Terran.” TssVar flicked a limb toward the door panel.

“OverLord …” Gael sent a panicked glance at me. “This bit of skirt is not—”

“You heard the OverLord, Kelly.” I shoved him toward the door with exaggerated impatience. “Get out of here. Shoo.”

A centuron was waiting outside. I watched until TssVar secured the door panel once more.

“So what information am I supposed to have?” I asked in a deliberately skeptical tone, then crossed my fingers behind my back. “This
was only my second shot at slave concealment, you know. I’ve decided I’m terrible at it, and promise I won’t do it again.”

“You are still a habitual liar. Come around here.” TssVar resumed his seat behind the console, and pressed his claws into two Hsktskt-shaped palm pads. I circled around in time to see the dimensional simulators flicker into operation, and a large star chart take shape over the surface of the unit. “Do you know this region?”

Of course I did. I’d lived there for a year. And he knew it—his young had been born there. “No.” I scratched my scalp. “Doesn’t look very familiar.”

“Observe.”

Tiny holo ships began creeping in diagonal waves across the binary solar system. I’d seen a Hsktskt planetary invasion force—some three hundred star vessels in orbit around Joren—but this fleet had fifty times that many ships. I bent over to study one of the tiny holos, and bit the inside of my lip before I straightened.

“League troop freighters.”

“Yes. Seventeen thousand of them, we estimate, originating from more than thirty different systems.” TssVar pressed another pad, and the star chart shrank to a wide-view chunk of galaxy. The specs of light representing the fleet now barely inched through the simulation. “Notice their path, Doctor.” He highlighted one small white speck on the other side of the chart. “Catopsa’s present position.”

I didn’t have to draw a line with my finger to see that unheard-of forces were heading straight toward us. “You’d better think about relocating to a new neighborhood, OverLord.”

“Hsktskt do not retreat, Doctor.” He turned off the simulation and regarded me steadily. “Now you will tell me everything you know about League troop movements and tactics.”

Recalling he’d said the same thing when he’d told me about Joseph’s transmission, I exhaled a grateful breath of relief. “Which is practically nothing.” I thought about what I’d observed while on the
Perpetua
, and related the most harmless details of what I’d seen, ending with, “They will probably send their most experienced commanders, their seasoned troops. One doesn’t take on the Faction with trainees.” An idiot would tell him the same thing. “That’s all I can tell you—pure speculation, at best.”

“How does Joseph Grey Veil fit into this equation? He calls for an invasion, then informs the Hsktskt of the same. I understand warm-bloods and their penchant for betrayal, but this man has another agenda.”

Did he know he was sitting next to it? “Joseph Grey Veil is manipulative, but that’s like saying Catopsa is shiny.” I decided to be
partially honest. “He’s obsessed with perfection, has no morals or conscience, and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. That includes inciting the League to war one minute, and collaborating with the Faction the next. His goal is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.” No, it wasn’t. “But whatever he wants, he gets.”

“Except you.”

I let my mouth curl. “I don’t think even Joseph could convince thirty-some odd worlds to send that many ships after one individual. I’m not that important a lab rat.”

“Perhaps you are.”

I started sweating again.

TssVar kept me at the console for the rest of the day, as he showed me possible attack scenarios and questioned me about Joseph, the League, and what I thought might happen. I tried to sound stupid, without sounding stupid, and committed everything I saw and heard to memory. I couldn’t do anything to help the Hsktskt, but perhaps Noarr could use the information to assist the invasion and free the prisoners.

A centuron finally interrupted us with an urgent request for me to return to the infirmary.

“The escaped League Commander has been recovered.”

I found what was left of Shropana strapped to a berth. His generally demented state didn’t concern me as much as the condition of his diseased heart did. I’d soon have to operate on him, with or without his permission. Then I ran the rest of my scans as he raved incoherently. He kept shrieking something about his eyes being put out.

I checked, of course. They were still intact, but milky cataracts had formed on the surface of his corneas.

“Patril.
Patril
.” I held his thrashing head still between my hands. “What happened to your eyes?”

“Couldn’t see, they blinded me, they shot me in the face from every direction….”

“These aren’t pulse burns.” When he didn’t respond, I huffed out an impatient breath and turned to the waiting centuron. “Where did you find him?”

“On the surface, Doctor.”

He shouldn’t be blind, I thought, only dead. “Where?”

“In the clearing beyond the compound perimeter. The one with the black outcroppings.”

Shropana tore one arm free of restraints and grabbed the front of my tunic. “They kidnapped me! They dragged me out there, the beasts, to
sacrifice me! But I fooled them.” He chuckled, then started sobbing. “I fooled …”

“Well?” The centuron didn’t blink when I glanced at him again. “Is that how he got out there? Did one of the guards dump him on the surface?”

“It is unlikely, Doctor.”

I considered sedating Shropana, but opted for a mild tranquilizer and kept him on close monitor. After an hour, the centuron seemed satisfied that his escaped prisoner was incapable of making another break for freedom, and left me alone with him.

“Patril.” I leaned forward as he opened his eyes to stare at me with no small amount of confusion. “How do you feel?”

“Tired.” He gazed around, his eyes widening. “Don’t let him take me out there again. Don’t let him.”

“Who? Who took you? What did he do to you?”

“The low-browed one, he took me. Him and two of the other beasts.” Patril’s gaze darted as he frantically searched the room. “He tried to kill me. I saw. I saw everything.”

“What did you see?”

For the first time Shropana seemed to focus on my face, then his expression turned cunning. “You know. You help him. You’ve always helped them, you
bitch
.”

“I need to speak with you, Doctor.”

I turned to see Reever standing beside the partition. He’d want to lecture me about Gael, no doubt. “Not now.”

“It is important.”

I adjusted a monitor that didn’t need adjusting. “So is my patient.” When he touched me, I stood up and glided away. “Okay.” I stepped around the partition and folded my arms. “You’ve got a minute. Start talking.”

“FurreVa reported she discovered you concealing two escaped prisoners.” Reever removed a data pad from his tunic pocket and switched it to display. “The Terran Kelly and an unidentified humanoid male.”

“So?”

“As a member of the Faction, you—”

“—aren’t allowed to harbor runaway slaves, I know. So?”

He didn’t prepare me for the next bombshell. He simply dropped it. “Lord SrrokVar has filed a protest against OverLord TssVar’s decision to recognize our union, and a request to have it terminated.”

I controlled my expression. Barely. “How do you terminate a Hsktskt marriage? Does someone kill you?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

“The SubHanar has granted SrrokVar permission to continue conducting his research involving Terrans, specifically on you.”

“Has he?” I resisted the urge to collapse on the nearest berth. “When do I report for torture?”

“He cannot conduct his research if you are pregnant.”

It didn’t take ten seconds for that to sink in. “Oh, no.
No
.”

He inclined his head politely. “Then you must falsify your medical records. I would suggest having your resident sign off on the positive pregnancy scan, to avoid difficulty in convincing the Lord you are actually carrying my child.”

Suspicion settled over me. He was being nice. Too nice. “Why would you encourage me to deceive the Hsktskt when you could force me to do something much more fun for you personally?”

“We will discuss that at length another time.” He handed me the data pad. “A large group of prisoners in tier nine have been reported to be suffering from an outbreak of a new disease. I am ordering them to be kept sequestered in their chambers until you can verify that the pathogen infecting them is not contagious.”

“That’s smart.” I studied the guard’s report. “Looks like it could be some kind of food poisoning. I’ll have to go and examine the victims.” I grabbed my medical case and headed for the door panel.

I learned from the guard that the latest batch of new arrivals occupied tier nine, and that Paul Dalton and Geef Skrople were among the infected prisoners. Friends in trouble again, as they’d been on K-2. What could be causing it this time?

I located Paul and Geef in the prisoner commons, with about two hundred other males who had been captured in the border territories. I knelt down beside Paul, listened to his broken moans, and studied the speckled condition of his face.

He looked awful. On death’s doorstep. And it was all I could do to swallow my laughter.

“Nice job.” I pulled out my scanner, and reached a hand toward his artificially flushed brow. “Whose bright idea was this?”

“Mine,” he whispered, and lolled his head to one side in an excellent imitation of fever-induced delirium. “Don’t touch, Doc. The stuff we used for the fake rash rubs off.”

I nodded toward the other spotty, moaning prisoners. “The rest of them, too?”

“Yeah. Pretty smart, huh?”

“Pretty reckless.” I played worried doctor and performed a completely unnecessary examination. “So why the performance?”

“We needed to get you out of that infirmary so we could talk. Met a friend of yours as soon as we were brought over here.” Paul moved his eyes to the left, and I looked down to see Wonlee lying in a state of counterfeit delirium. “He’s going to rally the rest of the prisoners to help us.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Geef and I need to get to the surface. That’s why we thought we’d fake the contagion. Can you get us out of this tier and into the main complex? We can take it from there.”

I’d have to get TssVar to agree to set up some kind of quarantine ward. “I think so.”

One of the centurons appeared in the entrance to the commons, and I lunged to my feet. “Don’t come in here! These prisoners are highly contagious. I’m instituting an immediate level-one quarantine.”

The centuron backed out and sealed the door panel at once.

“I love it when they jump like that.” I turned back to Paul. “You’ll need help to get to the surface. But let’s get you out of here first.”

It took a bunch of shouting and striding around looking frantic, but I convinced TssVar to move Paul and the other two hundred “contagious” new prisoners out of the slave tiers and into an unused cargo storage area. During the move, I released Won, who promptly went back to his own tier to start recruiting prisoners for the cause.

I set up Zella to run the ward, after confiding what the real story was and threatening to dismember her—slowly—with a lascalpel if she breathed a word of it to anyone in a thermal uniform. Geef asked me to spread the word about the coming rescue forces, and I briefed prisoners I trusted from each tier as I made rounds of the entire compound to check for any other cases of the “contagion.”

It was during these rounds that one of the prisoners on Gael Kelly’s tier informed me the Terran had been slated to be sold at auction. The same auction I was summoned to the next day.

“Perform standard pre-trade inspections,” TssVar instructed me. “Pay particular attention to any members of the Isalth-io species. A trader complained he lost two of them a day out from Catopsa.”