Endurance (23 page)

“There are rumors that I’m a Hsktskt in a Terran skinsuit, too.” Vlaav’s close proximity started to annoy me. “Something else, intern?”

“I’ve collected a number of small parasites from patients’ bodies.” He held out a specimen container with some tiny black things jumping around in it. “With your permission, I’ll dissect them and determine if they carry the meningitis microbe.”

Vlaav had one-upped me. I hadn’t even considered the possibility of parasitic infection. “Excellent. Do it right away. I want a full report sent to OverMaster HalaVar as soon as you’re done.” I picked up Jenner and regarded my colleague. “Include in the report that I am advancing you to first-year resident status, if you would, Doctor.”

The Saksonan’s facial hemangiomas swelled so fast that a couple popped. Embarrassed, Vlaav blotted himself with a sleeve, then bobbed his head. “I’m very honored. Thank you, Doctor.”

Zella made a disgusted sound, and I faced her. “And you, madam, will show Doctor Irde the appropriate respect.” Her vibrissae quivered, but she nodded, too. “I’m going to take Jenner back to my quarters. Signal me if there is any change—”

“Remain where you are, Terran.”

The sound of that rasping, insinuating tone made me cringe. I forced my spine to straighten as I confronted the two Hsktskt who had walked into the infirmary. FlatHead and one of his buddies. It was, apparently, my lucky day.

“Did you need treatment, centurons? Other than psychiatric evals, I mean?”

As GothVar advanced, I handed Jenner to Vlaav and stayed where I was, trying to look undaunted. The closer he got, the harder it became to breathe.

No, I couldn’t descend into another panic attack.
I won’t let him do this to me. He’s nothing more than an overgrown bully. I’m not afraid of him.

“We will escort you to your quarters.” He seized one of my arms, his friend clutched the other, and they towed me out of the infirmary.

I didn’t fight or say anything. Doing either would have only made it worse. No, I was going to concentrate on remaining as calm and collected as possible. Gael would hear us come in and stay out of sight.

FlatHead positioned his mouth by my ear. “Have you thought of me, Terran?”

I contrived an expression of wide-eyed confusion. “Gee, no, I haven’t. But then, I haven’t felt queasy lately, so that’s understandable.”

His grip tightened from hard to pulverizing. “You will feel more than that, soon.”

I bit my lower lip as we arrived at the door to my quarters, and FlatHead yanked it open. No sign of Gael, but I thought a verbal cue might be prudent.

“Why the personal escort, OverCenturon?” I asked, deliberately loud. “Run out of slaves to kick around?”

FlatHead paused, long enough to give me hope, then addressed the other beast. “Search it.”

The centuron pulled Gael out of the storage unit a few moments later. GothVar regarded him with unblinking yellow eyes.

“HalaVar will be very interested in speaking with this one. Administer standard discipline, then take him to the OverMaster. I will see to the female.”

“She had no part in this business, you slimy jelly-boned bollocks!” Gael spat at the Hsktskt’s feet. “Lay off her!”

“Administer special discipline for disrespect to my rank,” was all GothVar said.

“You can of piss!” The Terran gave me a last, sympathetic glance before the centuron hauled him out of my chamber, leaving me alone with FlatHead.

I scratched my head, trying not to laugh.
Can of piss.
“Gee, wonder how he got in here?”

“You lie. Willfully concealing a slave makes you subject to discipline.” Flathead reached out, ripped my tunic from neck to hem, then pulled it off. He didn’t look at my body, only my arm. My right arm. “As I thought.”

No. Not again. “Wait!”

He didn’t. He flung me on the pallet, and rooted through my medical case until he found the suture-laser.

All reason left me as I rolled over, keeping my right arm between my body and the pallet. “I told you that won’t work.
It doesn’t work on me
!”

Claws ripped across my flesh as I was yanked onto my back. Two heavy limbs descended on my upper arm and wrist. Straddling me with a third, FlatHead activated the laser and held it an inch from my nose.

“This time, I will char your bones.”

He would, too. Enraged at his grotesque determination and my own terror, I followed Gael’s example and spat in his face.

The suture-laser, designed to knit together torn flesh, had a beam twice the width of a lascalpel. The first touch sent unbearable searing pain along the surface of my skin, and I tasted blood as my teeth closed together with a snap.

Why did my nerves keep regenerating? Couldn’t Joseph have deprogrammed those, too?

“Watch how I mark you, Terran.” GothVar slowly moved the beam over my smoldering flesh an inch at a time. “See how easily you burn.”

I didn’t want to look at him, at my arm. The horrible pressure of his weight holding me down was nothing compared to the gathering force squeezing the air from my throat. A whistling sound reached my ears while my vision hazed over. I could smell his breath mixing with the fumes from the beam. If I choked on my own bile—

“OverCenturon. Release the Doctor.”

Reever? I gasped for air, for anything that would allow me to call out to him. The heavy weight lifted from me, and I was hauled to my feet.

“She concealed an escaped prisoner here, and removed her PIC again. I corrected this.” Flathead shoved me to my knees. “She plays you for a fool, HalaVar.”

“Does she?” Reever came to stand over me.

A strange Hsktskt I’d never seen before joined him. “OverCenturon, OverMaster.” He gazed down at me with considerable interest. “Slave, extend your arm.”

I used my good hand to wipe the blood from my mouth, then smiled with relief as the constriction in my lungs eased. “Go stick your head in a disposal unit.”

The unknown Hsktskt latched his claws on to my arm and held it out so he could examine it. “You said you just applied this PIC, GothVar, did you not?”

FlatHead grunted out an affirmative.

“She heals quickly.” He let go, and I cradled my wounded arm to my chest. “Have her sent to me once discipline has been administered.”

The way he looked at me—who was he?

“That will not be possible, Lord.” Reever gestured to two of the centurons he’d brought. “I have decided on her discipline. Confine her in the isolation pit.”

I was back, right where I started, only the amenities weren’t quite as comfortable this time.

The isolation pit was a deep recess in a remote corridor, down which the Hsktskt centurons dropped me via a grav-hoist. Too deep to escape—I figured they lowered me a good fifteen feet before I hit bottom—and without anything to soften my fall. Nothing in the pit, I discovered, but me, bloodstains from my injuries, and six smooth, inescapable walls.

Pain kept me from passing out, so I sat for a long time, holding my burned arm away from my body, and considering the possibilities.

Reever might just leave me here to die, I thought, which would be a fairly horrible death. It would take days, possibly weeks for starvation and dehydration to kill me. The chilly interior, like the cell on the
Perpetua
, wasn’t cold enough to induce hypothermia, even if I removed all my clothes to hasten the process. Too bad.

Eventually I dozed off, the fresh burn making my sleep restless. Every time I moved, it sent a sizzling jolt of new pain through me, which brought me halfway out of slumber. The cool, white light produced by the deep layers of quasi-quartz didn’t help much, either.

The hatch opened, waking me up. “Terran.”

I peered up to see GothVar staring down at me. “Not you again.” An image of the huge lizard being lowered down into the pit with me made me close my eyes tightly. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

He turned his head and said something to the pit guard that sounded like “not … rational,” then slammed the hatch shut.

Rational. I was rational. Not like FlatHead was an authority on the subject.

A day passed. I took to muttering to myself, to keep awake and to stop dwelling on my thirst and hunger. Eventually both became so strong that the only peace I found was in sleep.

A small object hitting the top of my skull woke me up. I jerked out of sleep to look around, and shuddered as I remembered where I was. Then I saw it.

A small square container, the kind sojourn teams carried in their packs. I grabbed it and looked up.

Above me, a dark, furry face hung over the edge of the pit. “Doctor?”

“Zel?” What was she doing here and where was the guard? “Get back to the infirmary before you get caught!”

“Wait.” She pushed something else over the side, and I tried to catch it. The burn made me clumsy, and it bounced into my lap, the weight bruising my thighs. “With more, I’ll try to come back.”

Before I could ask more what, her face disappeared. The thing on my lap was a large, thin plas container of liquid, the square case opened to reveal emergency sojourn rations.

Both of which Zella could have tainted, of course.

I didn’t care, I thought, scrambling to open the container of liquid. It would solve my problem if she had, and I’d be a complete idiot not to drink if she hadn’t.

Cool, wet liquid poured into my mouth and down the sides of my throat as I took a big swallow. Not water. Nutri-enhanced glucose and water, the kind of beverage I routinely prescribed for dehydrated patients. It slid down my desiccated throat to fill and warm my belly. Only with supreme will power was I able to close the container and keep myself from gulping it all down at once.

Can’t drink too fast.

I waited for the inevitable nausea to pass, then rummaged through the sojourn rations. All Terran foods, I saw, and in sealed, nonperishable packets.

Suddenly I knew exactly what GothVar had said to the pit guard. Not “not rational,” but “no rations at all.”

They meant to starve me.

Don’t know how long I’ll be down here. Have to conserve what I can.
I tore open the smallest packet and carefully ate half the contents. Simply chewing and swallowing made my jaw ache and my eyes sting. I would have wept, but I was too dehydrated.

No taste of chemicals, no indication of poison or drugs.

At last, exhausted with pleasure and the new hope it gave me, I curled over on my side and fell asleep again.

The dream I had was bizarre, without images, only sensations. For a long interval, I felt sure I’d been transported back to the
Sunlace.
The chilly, unyielding walls disappeared, and I was back on my own sleeping platform, snuggling into clean, crisp sheets. Jenner’s cold, dry nose nudged me a few times, and once I thought he licked my burned arm, but it didn’t hurt, so I dismissed it.

I would have gladly slept for another week, but something decided I’d been dreaming long enough.

Wake up.

I murmured something vaguely obscene and rolled over.

Wake up, woman.

The odd voice made my ears hum, and I swatted at it with one hand, annoyed by the disturbance.

Do you wish to stay here
?

I opened one eye, and promptly shrieked. Or would have, if the humanoid bending over me hadn’t clamped a flipper over my mouth.

“Be silent, or we will be discovered. I am not here to harm you.” Gently it eased its fin-shaped hand away. It—he? she?—spoke through a wristcom, I realized, instead of the Hsktskt-issue headgear. A hooded cloak concealed it from head to toe. If it had toes. “Come, we must go now.”

The cloak, I realized, was dark brown. Not yellow. Not orange.

“How did you get in here?” Behind it, I saw a gap in the wall that hadn’t been there when I’d fallen asleep. A Lok-Teel scurried over my chest, and I automatically removed it and set it aside. “Where did you come from? Who are you?”

“A friend.” He—taking a guess, I would say
he
—helped me to my feet, and I muffled another yelp as the days of inactivity made themselves known in my sore muscles. “You must crawl through there”—he pointed to the opening—“to reach the surface.”

“I don’t want to go to the surface.” Did I? No, I wasn’t leaving Jennifer or Alunthri behind again. Plus there were Zella and Vlaav, FurreVa, the other patients … no way could I go. “Take me to the infirmary.”

“I take prisoners away from this place,” he said in his strange, whirring voice. The wristcom translated the words, but couldn’t remove the underlying hum. “Arrangements have been made. We must go now.”

“No.” I sat back down and reached for my liquid container. “Thanks, I’ll stay.” The slave-runner reached for me again, and I shook my head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the offer. But I’m not leaving my friends behind.” I thought about what he’d said. “Who made the arrangements?”

“I did.” He made a disgruntled noise. Definitely a male. “Very well. I will take you to your infirmary.”

Crawling through the tunnel took time, considering the shape I was in. The cloaked humanoid went first, stopping every ten feet to glance back at me.

“I’m okay. Keeping going.” I disliked tight places, and the walls of the narrow passage were already starting to close in on me. “What’s your name?”

He stopped for a moment at a cross section, then turned to crawl off in the right branch. “Noarr.”

“My name is Cherijo.”

“I know.” He was silent for another few minutes, until we reached the end of the passage. “I will jump down. Wait.” He disappeared over the edge, and I hurried toward it.

The tunnel emptied out into one of the prisoner tier commons. I spotted Noarr a good four meters below me. He gestured for me to jump.

I shook my head. “Too far!” He only made a more impatient version of the gesture. “Okay.” I eased my legs over the side, took a breath, then pushed off. Seconds later I landed in a strong pair of arms.

“Whoa.” I grabbed onto his cloak, and tore off a small piece in the process. “That was scary.” The warm, dark scent of him rose from his garments, and teased my nose. I glanced up into the dark hood. I couldn’t see his eyes, and that bothered me. “Thanks.”