Eternity Row (11 page)

Vlaav ducked his head, mumbled something, and headed for the door. Wonlee only grinned at me, displaying most of his pointed teeth.

“Dr. Irde, please stay.” Xonea gestured to both males. “You both can contribute greatly to Healer Cherijo’s training.” He shook his head when I tried to say something. “You will follow my instructions during training, just like any member of the crew.”

I was willing to go along with this because of Marel, but even I wasn’t that stupid. “I didn’t agree to become a pin cushion-no offense, Won.”

The Esalmalin inclined his prickly head. “None taken.”

“Orderly Wonlee is an expert on League assault techniques and weaponry.” My ClanBrother gestured toward the table. “Dr. Irde’s species has enjoyed considerable success using alternative weaponry.”

“Can we do this without the weaponry? Please?”

“For this session, we will only practice hand-to-hand assault and defense maneuvers.” Xonea marched me to the center of the practice quad. “Allow each of them to demonstrate one method.”

“I’d better not need bandages after this.” I spread my feet and centered my weight. “Okay, Won, let’s see what you’ve got.”

“League troop protocol during individual engagement is to initially eliminate enemy mobility.” Wonlee dropped suddenly, and the next thing I knew I was facedown on the mat beside him. “Like so.”

“Great protocol.” I sat up. When he would have helped me to my feet, I shook my head. “Show me how you did that.”

Won demonstrated, this time going for Xonea. The Jorenian merely vaulted over him before the Esalmalin so much as laid a spine on him. Then they made me do it to Vlaav, who proved to be almost as nimble as Xonea. That, or I was too slow and clumsy to nail him.

“Okay, Dr. Irde.” I rolled to my feet and went after him. “Let’s see why Saksonans are supposed to be such hot fighters.”

Vlaav, who looked very serious, didn’t move. Just as I got within smacking range, he lifted his upper limbs and slapped them together. Every dermal pocket on the inside of his arms instantly burst, spraying us both with bloody body fluid.

A second later, I was on my knees, sputtering and trying to wipe my eyes clear with the sleeve of my tunic.

“That’s-that’s
disgusting
!” I yelled, as soon as I’d spit the hemangiomatic fluid from my mouth.

“Let me help.” The Saksonan bent down and wiped my face with a piece of cloth Xonea tossed him. “It’s disgusting, but harmless,” Vlaav assured me. “It was not always so. My people once deliberately infected themselves with various diseases before entering into battle.”

“Bacterial warfare delivered via infected body fluid. Very nice.” I took the cloth away from him and scrubbed. “Humans don’t maintain enough of any body fluids to squirt in the enemy’s face. If that much blood comes out of us, we die.”

“Such attacks are common among nonhuman species,” Xonea said.

He’d done this on purpose. I could feel it. “I’ve been subjected to a couple of nonhuman species attacks already, thanks. Is the demeaning part a central aspect of the program?”

“Only if the participant is a complete novice in battle.”

“Perhaps Duncan should spar with you,” Wonlee said, oblivious to the undercurrents flowing between me and my ClanBrother. “He is a well-trained warrior, but Terran, like you.”

Won was right, of course. The Hsktskt had taught Reever to fight in a slave arena, and as a result he used their bizarre, nonhuman moves to stomp pretty much anyone who came at him. I’d seen some glimpses of
how
he’d learned to fight when we were linked. It wasn’t something I wanted to experience personally.

“It’s better if I keep my marriage out of the warrior’s quad.” I looked at the stains on the front of my tunic, and frowned. “Be nice if I had something like Vlaav does, though.”

“You can use a blade as well as any warrior on the ship,” the Captain insisted.

I went to the table, and examined the lethal assortment. “I don’t mean to kill. To… disarm…” I picked up what looked like a short black stick. “What’s this?”

Won came over, took the stick, and twisted it. Both ends shot out and turned it into a
long
black stick, which he whirled around in a blurry circle. “A
goreu
staff, from my homeworld. It is used instead of a blade during training.”

“Kind of long to be a pretend sword.” I grabbed it when he tossed it back to me and planted one end on the deck. It appeared to be a good foot taller than me. “It’s just a telescoping device, right? Spikes don’t shoot out of it or anything, do they?”

Won grinned. “No, it merely elongates.”

“Handy.” I measured it again by holding it against my body. During a visit to Asia as a Medtech student back on Terra, I’d discovered one form of the martial arts that had briefly fascinated me. When I returned home, Joseph had vetoed training, but allowed me to purchase instructional vids. I’d never really used the lessons I’d learned, but I hadn’t forgotten them. “Can you make it shorter? Say, hack seven inches off each end?”

“Of course, but why?”

I turned the staff sideways, dropped down, and slammed it into the backs of his central leg joints. Two seconds later, Won lay on the practice mat and stared at me, shocked.

“That’s why.” I hefted the staff, thought of Qonja, and nodded. “And take off eight inches.”

A few days later, Squilyp and I met to discuss options on how to deal with the ever-increasing problems with our Oenrallian patient. I would have done that over the diagnostic console in his office, but the Omorr steered me out to the corridor.

“We need to take a meal interval,” he said, adding when I protested, “you missed at least two today.”

Three, but who was counting? “I checked the scaffolding chamber; the clone liver won’t be ready for transplant for at least another four days. Since when do you worry about my diet?”

“I am worried about this new resident, but we can’t talk in Medical-he listens to every conversation we have. We must also determine how to replicate those hypercells if we’re going to save Pilot Dhreen, and perform the necessary test trials.”

“I hope we have time to do all that.” In the galley, I walked up to the prep unit and dialed up the first thing on my personal menu-mixed Chinese vegetables on steamed rice with almond tea. “What are you having?”

He punched in his own choice. “Vreah stew.”

“Does it look like a bowl of live worms?”

“No.”

“Good.”

As we sat down with our trays, I noticed Salo and a group of engineers making gestures of greeting toward us from several tables over, and waved back at them. Each male wore a warrior’s knot in his matte-black hair, which meant they were probably old battle buddies. It was unusual to find Xonea’s second-in-command in the galley at this time of night; generally, Salo spent his off-duty time with his bondmate and child.

“Looks like Xonea’s bright idea to deploy the cannons has everyone talking.” I tasted my tea, and eyed Squilyp’s stew. It didn’t look like worms, but it was bright yellow, pulpy, and had purple spiny things in it. “Does that really taste better than it looks?”

He sampled it. His species ate using their gildrells like utensils, but Squilyp did it with such elegance that it almost seemed dainty. “The indigenous cephalopods on the Omorr homeworld are tastier, and have more crunch.”

“Yum.” I turned my head and made a horrible face. “Are you sure you want to go back there?”

He shrugged. “It is tradition, if I wish to secure a viable marriage contract.”

I really didn’t want to be in charge of Medical again. Especially if Duncan and I decided we’d be better off leaving the
Sunlace
. “Too bad the Omorr don’t have mail-order brides. Your parents could buy a wife for you and send her to the ship.”

“Terrans order and purchase their spouses, like commodities?” He frowned. “I thought slavery had been eradicated from your homeworld.”

I explained the joke, and briefly described the authentic archaic Terran custom behind it.

“Quite a novel idea.” He pondered that for a moment. “It is quite possible I could arrange to negotiate my marriage contract here, on the
Sunlace
.”

“Squilyp. I was
kidding
.” I’d better change the subject, or he’d be signaling Omorr for some single female catalogues. “So what’s up with our favorite stalker?”

“I retrieved his personnel data and reviewed it. Before his assignment to the
Sunlace
, Qonja Torin studied as a student of Klarak Adan, at a Medtech in the Lno Province.”

“Which means what?”

“The Ruling Council governs Joren from the Lno Province. Coincidentally, Klarak Adan also serves as the Council’s Primary Health Advisor.”

“Interesting set of coincidences.” I tapped a fingertip against my lips. “Either he has friends in high places, or they sent him to watch me.”

My boss gave me a worried look. “Why would they do that, Cherijo?”

“Maybe they want my secret recipe for chicken noodle soup.” My attention strayed as Ilona Red Faun strode purposefully across the galley toward Salo and his group. The Terran girl put her hand on Salo’s arm and bent over to speak to him. The big warrior immediately rose and led Ilona away into the games room. “I should tell you, Squil, Reever and I may take Marel and get out of here. Soon.”

“Will the Torins allow you to leave the ship?”

“Xonea won’t like it.” I tried my rice, which wasn’t quite sticky enough. “He and Reever aren’t exactly best friends these days.”

“I’ve noticed.” Squilyp smiled at the snort I made. “Perhaps they only want what’s best for you and Marel.”

“Yeah, too bad they can’t agree on what that is.”

I watched Darea enter the galley, obviously looking for her bondmate. She stopped at Salo’s table, then went into the games room. Four seconds later, a woman screamed.

Squilyp and I looked at each other, got up, and ran. We and a couple of crew members had to dive out of the way as a whump-ball table came flying out of the games room and crashed, wiping out several tables and chairs.

“Someone’s having a bad day,” I said.

Inside, Darea had Ilona pinned up against an interior hull panel, one huge blue hand holding the red-faced Terran girl by the throat. Ilona’s feet dangled a good two feet above the deck.

Salo stood beside Darea, apparently trying to calm her down and keep her from snapping the weaver’s neck. “It is not what you perceive, my heart.”

“Darea!” I rushed forward. “Let her go!”

“She put her hands on my bondmate!” The big Jorenian female shook Ilona like a rag doll. “You
dare
beset what is mine?”

“I- I-” The beautiful face contorted as Ilona tried to get enough air to speak, and couldn’t. White showed all around her frantic dark eyes.

I tried again, this time with a softer tone. “Darea, please, put her down. I’m sure she didn’t mean to threaten Salo.”

He gave me a faintly ironic look. “She was not
threatening
me, Healer.”

“Then what… ?” The light dawned when I saw a smudge of color on Salo’s face-the same color as the pigment Ilona used to redden her lips. “Oh. Oh, no.”

Squilyp chose a more direct approach. “Darea Torin, I shield Ilona Red Faun. Release her this moment.”

“You cannot shield her, Senior Healer.” Despite stating this, Darea released Ilona and watched her thump down on the floor. The Terran girl grabbed her throat and coughed uncontrollably. “She attempts to violate the bond between mates. There is no shielding of such an offense.”

I’d never heard what Jorenians did when someone made a pass at their bondmates. Evidently no one had been stupid enough to try it very often. “Darea, she’s Terran. In her culture this sort of thing happens regularly-”

She turned her head to glare at me.