Beyond Varallan (7 page)

“Priority direct relay for you, Healer Cherijo.”

I walked over to the main display and acknowledged the signal. “Forward it through to the Senior Healer’s office for me, please.”

I grabbed a server of tea from the ward prep unit on the way in, closed the door, then activated Tonetka’s display. The vid screen glowed and coalesced into an image of a sleek, well-groomed blond woman. “Ana?”

“Hello, Dr. Grey Veil!” K-2’s Administrator smiled as she scrutinized me thoroughly. “You're looking very well for an escaped League criminal with an outrageous amount of credits on your head.”

I laughed with delight. “Ana Hansen, how in the universe did you manage to make a direct relay to the
Sunlacel”

“Commander Norash owed me a favor, and the Jorenians were happy to help. We arranged a signal rendezvous before you left orbit. So tell me, how are you?“

I quickly related some of the events since my rescue from K-2, leaving out the latest clash with Reever.

She was astonished to learn I had been adopted by HouseClan Torin. “This makes you Dr. Cherijo
Torin
?”

“Among other things,” I said, and took a sip from the server. “Namely, ClanDaughter, ClanCousin, ClanNiece…”

She beamed with pleasure. “Just what you needed. One big family.” I could debate that, I thought, but decided instead to tell her about replacing Tonetka once we reached Joren. “Quite an honor,” was her reaction.

I winced. “Please, don’t say that word. The first week I was on board, I said something about what an honor it was to be working with the crew. Apparently my wording translated to a licentious proposal to three different males standing nearby.”

“Did any of them hold you to it?”

“Happily, no.”

“Too bad,” she said. “Speaking of males, how is Duncan?”

I tried to find out, I thought sourly, but he got cold feet on me. Irritation made me flush, and I tugged at my collar. “He’s working as the ship's linguist.”

“Any… progress between you two?”

“No.” Time to change the subject. To anything but Reever. “How are things at your end of the galaxy?”

“The League cruisers pulled out of orbit some weeks ago, when it finally became apparent you weren’t coming back.”

Idiots. “Takes them awhile to catch on, doesn’t it?”

She nodded. “Your old nemesis Phorap Rogan was dismissed at the same time. Rumor has it he returned to his homeworld.”

“The patients declare a colonial holiday?” I finished my tea and set the server aside.

“Some wanted to.” Ana tried to look official, but the grin spoiled the effect. “Dr. Mayer sends you his regards. He asked me to say that should the League’s decision ever be reversed in your case, he will allow you to be Chief of Staff while he spends a few years on Caszaria's Moon.”

I laughed. I couldn’t imagine the taciturn surgeon ever relaxing on K-2, much less a resort planet. “How are the colonists? Has everyone settled down?”

One of Ana’s slim hands rubbed her brow for a moment. “Those who are left, yes. We've had a general exodus. More than half the population transferred out as soon as Pmoc Quadrant lifted the last travel restrictions.”

That was a shame. “Colonial Admin had to figure that was going to happen.” Surreptitiously I rubbed my damp palms on my trousers, and wondered if Squilyp had been fooling with the environmental controls again.

“We planned for it, but the need for key staffing has become critical. We now need construction workers as much as medical personnel. No one, naturally, wants to transfer in. We hope, with time, the panic will fade.” She grew serious. “What about your situation, Joey? Will you be all right with the Jorenians? Are you happy?”

“I’m satisfied with my position. Happy…” I grimaced. “Who wants to look over their shoulder forever?”

“Keep your chin up,” she said. “If you need help, remember you still have friends here. Whether you return to Pmoc Quadrant or not.”

We didn’t say it. We both knew this might be the last time we had direct contact with each other.

“Thanks, Ana. I’ll try to stay in touch.”

“Thank you. Tell Dhreen and Alunthri I send my greetings. Oh, and give Jenner a hug for me.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “God bless and safe journey, Cherijo. I will be thinking of you, always.”

The traditional Jorenian farewell seemed appropriate. “Walk within beauty, Ana.”

I terminated the relay. Before I turned from the console, a signal from Operational came in. Ndo’s image appeared on the screen, his broad features etched with tension.

“Alert status,” he said. “Medical, prepare for emergency transition. Assemble medevac teams, report to level eighteen, launch control.”

A couple of the nurses came over as I acknowledged the signal. “What is it, Ndo?”

“NessNevat has been attacked by raiders. Make haste.” Ndo’s relay abruptly terminated.

Getting the patients prepped took time. Residents, nurses, and the Senior Healer appeared in rapid succession. I looked up from Fasala’s suspension cradle. Tonetka seemed worried.

“We’ve got to get the berth harnesses in place,” I said, sweeping my hand toward the last of the unsecured patients.

The Omorr resident bumped into me as he bounced by. “Doctor! Didn’t you hear the announcement? We have to hurry and make preparations!”

“Don’t get your gildrells in a knot, Squilyp.” I felt like smacking him with something hard and heavy. “This is why we have all those endless drills, remember?”

We managed to strap all the patients in protective harnesses just before the ship’s transitional thrusters fired. I turned to locate a spare harness. Squilyp, who was already strapped in, gave me a derisive glare. What a little paragon of caution he was.

“See? Nothing to worry about. I bet that had to be a record—” I found myself flat on my face, watching the deck below me ripple and reshape itself. “Forget what I said.” I groaned, and pushed myself up on my elbows as the
Sunlace
transitioned.

Through the distortion of reality, the Omorr looked like a big blob of white corkscrews. Corkscrews that were jiggling with laughter.

“You can get up now, Healer.” Tonetka was too polite to laugh at me, once the transition was over. “Perhaps I will
increase
the number of drills we perform.”

“The Doctor could apply some off-duty time to remedial training,” Squilyp said. Always the helpful resident.

I’d like to apply something flat, wide, and adhesive to his gildrells, I thought. I held my head and stood up carefully. “I'll never complain again. Long as I live.” Which I hoped would be until I was a little old grey-haired genetic construct.

“Remain still, Cherijo,” the Senior Healer said, and performed a brief scan. She frowned slightly. “Your vitals are registering above normal parameters. Norepinephrine levels are also unusually elevated.”

“It’s just the sympathoadrenal response, Tonetka.” I straightened my tunic. “Terrans exposed to sudden, unexpected stress generally enter a hypermetabolic state.”

“As you say, Cherijo.” She didn’t look entirely convinced, but we had other things to do. “Come, we must perform rounds.” To the residents, she said, “Prepare the field packs. Allow enough supplies for possible heavy casualties.”

The Senior Healer made sure we had enough staffers to cover the ward, then she and I performed quick rounds. Squilyp and another resident sorted what equipment we would need. The supplies were divided among the medevac team. I shouldered my heavy pack with a grimace. The Omorr must have put an extra fifty kilos in mine.

“Caution,” the Medical Bay display announced. “Medevac launch will depart
Sunlace
in ten minutes.”

We took the gyrlift down eleven levels, where one of the launches was waiting for us. Other teams were still loading their shuttles with relief supplies and equipment.

“Have you received reports from the surface?” Tonetka asked once she was inside the launch. I stowed my pack before shrugging into a harness rig. The pilot turned around, and the interior light revealed a thatch of orange hair with two small, red hornlike protrusions. It was my Oenrallian friend, Dhreen.

“No signal from the colonists,” Dhreen replied, and punched in the initiation codes. The launch engines hummed into life.

Squilyp leaned forward. “What about the raiders?”

The Oenrallian, who had long ago transported me from Terra to K-2, shrugged. “A trader reported that ships were attacking the colony,” Dhreen said. “Probably a passing route jaunter who saw them firing on the planet from orbit.”

The Omorr looked pained. “A trader? Surely more reputable sources could have provided information.”

“Nothing wrong with traders,” Dhreen said.

“They’re the worst sort of opportunists.” Squilyp's gildrells bristled. “Always looking to profit from the suffering of others. Why, once I knew this—”

“Uh, Squil?” I interrupted him. “Want to guess what Dhreen was before he joined the crew?” The Omorr’s eyes widened as he glanced from the unsmiling Oenrallian to me. “Exactly. So… you were saying?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

Dhreen winked at me. I felt much better.

The launch shot out of the flight bay and into open space. Below us the looming sphere of the planet swelled into view. It was a placid-looking world. Land masses solidly paved the outer surface in a myriad pattern of green and brown topography. Small blue circles indicated water sources, probably former sites of ancient meteor collisions.

I noticed that Dhreen was scanning the immediate sector continuously. Slipping from my harness, I went to the helm and quietly asked him about it.

“Standard procedure after raider attacks,” he said, his oddly pitched voice equally low. “Loot haulers sometimes hide close by, wait for rescue to come in, jump them as well.”

“According to the reports, this species is principally involved in agricultural trade,” Tonetka said behind us. “Who would attack such a world?”

Dhreen’s cheerful voice iced over with contempt. “Scum looking for easy takings.”

It took only minutes to descend through the upper atmosphere, and clear the last distance to dock. En route we used the time to check our equipment and review medevac protocols.

“Triage must give priority to
salvageable
cases,” Tonetka made the grim reminder. “Remember to enlist the aid of any native healers whenever possible. We come to assist, not to offend.”

I thought I was tough, that I’d seen the worst. I'd been a surgeon on Terra for nearly nine years, and after that had survived a planetary epidemic on K-2. I discovered I hadn't. After we landed, one glance through the viewport made my stomach turn.

NessNevat’s Central Transport had been completely razed. The smoldering ruins of a dozen vessels surrounded our launch. Craters pitted the docking pads, like the footprints of a rampaging titan. No one responded to Dhreen's request for landing clearance. The Oenrallian pilot still performed standard decon procedures before he permitted us to disembark.

“I’m jaunting back up to the ship to ferry another team,” he said when I passed by the helm. His spatulate fingers pressed mine briefly. “You owe me another round of whump-ball, you know. Have a care, Doc.”

I squeezed back. “You too, pal.”

When the outer hull doors parted, the stench of death and destruction welcomed us. Among other things.

“Mother of All Houses,” one of the staffers muttered.

“Monstrous.” The Omorr choked out the word. “Monstrous.”

For once I agreed with him. “You’re right, Squilyp. There were definitely monsters here.”

Motionless, mutilated bodies littered the ground, dismembered body parts flung around them like parts of broken toys. Blood gleamed dark and wet. It was everywhere. Pooled under the bodies. Splashed over ruined equipment. Blended with the spilled fuel that oozed past our footgear. Blood that was red, like mine.

There were no rescue efforts being made by the natives. No signs of life. Nothing moved but drifting smoke on a warm, fetid breeze. That came from the fires burning both around Transport and in the distance. A lone warning claxon echoed an eerie wail.

I shifted my pack as I scanned the horrified faces of the medical team, then caught the boss’s eye. We often had moments of perfect empathy. This was one of them.

Time to get busy.

“Okay, people, we’ve got work to do,” I said. “Let's go over the plan one more time.”

My announcement drew the team’s attention away from the massacre and jolted them out of their initial shock. Faces cleared. Backs straightened. Eyes sharpened. The Senior Healer took it from there.

“We will set up our triage station where we find the highest concentration of survivors. I will see to the use of existing facilities. The Engineers will build a temporary hospital if necessary.” She turned to me. “Cherijo, your first priority is getting an area secured for the surgical cases. Squilyp, supervise triage until we can set up sterile fields. Let us make haste.”

Whoever did this had no concept of mercy or surrender. All around us were the scorched scars left from heavy pulse fire and displacer blasts. What wasn’t burned was blown to rubble. I was so mesmerized by the widespread destruction that I stumbled over one of the bodies.

Looking down, I bit my lip to keep from groaning.

Up close, the inhabitants of this world were even more pitiful. Red-blooded mammalians, from the look of their furry bodies. They were smaller than me. Benign faces. Little muscular development.

I remembered what Dhreen said.
Easy takings
. The butchers.

“Over there,” Tonetka said, and pointed.

Several small, fearful faces peeked at us from the shadows of a partially collapsed structure. As we walked, we kept our hands open to show we carried no weapons.

“Where the hell is Reever?” I said under my breath.

“He’s on the next shuttle. Keep a pleasant expression,” Tonetka said. “Smile, nod, beckon to them. It will ease their fear.”

The survivors slowly crept out of hiding to get a better look. We stopped and stood still as they drew close. Tonetka spoke softly to them as her graceful hands moved in soothing patterns.