Endurance (48 page)

“Are you ready to go?”

“We’re prepared, Doctor,” the Omorr said. “What’s the patient’s condition?”

“Bad. Direct displacer blast to the upper torso. Multiple internal trauma, definitely cardiac and liver, God knows what else. I had to induce artificial hibernation just to keep her alive.” I checked her infuser lines, then nodded to the crew members helping me. “Have the team in the suite. We’ll be there in a minute.”

I paused long enough to snap out orders for the injured to be taken to Medical, then accompanied FurreVa’s gurney into a gyrlift. Every step made my stomach clench. Every glance down at the motionless Hsktskt female made me move that much faster.

Adaola, who was wearing a first-year intern’s tunic, manned the gurney from the moment we entered the bay. “Go and scrub, Healer. I will prep the patient.”

“Where’s Squilyp?” I stripped off my outer garments as I headed for the cleansing unit. “I need him to assist.”

He hopped out of the surgical suite, already scrubbed and gowned, and lifted his gloved membranes. “As I anticipated, Doctor.”

“Mr. Wonderful. Still as exemplary as ever.” My mouth hitched as I thrust my hands under the biodecon port to sterilize. “As soon as she’s under, get her chest open. I’ll be there in a second.”

My eyes went to the monitors as I entered the suite, and waited for a moment as Squilyp lowered the sterile field. FurreVa’s heart rate was erratic, and she’d lost too much blood. I was pleased to see Adaola had already initiated the synplasma infusers and had the heart/lung array standing by.

“First-year intern, huh?” I studied the instrument setup with approval. “So you were serious about becoming a physician.”

“Senior Healer Squilyp has been an inspirational instructor,” Adaola said, her white-within-white eyes crinkling above her mask. “He has encouraged me to pursue a surgical residency.”

Squilyp had once treated nurses with the same compassion he would a lascalpel: to be used until they no longer functioned. He’d grown up a lot since those days. “Couldn’t help infecting her with the bug, could you, Squid Lips?”

He winced at the old nickname. “I feel certain Adaola will make a competent surgeon.”

“I always thought she was wasted as a nurse,” I said as I went around the table and took my position opposite the Omorr.

The big Jorenian female made a modest gesture. “My thanks, Healer.”

Squilyp had already made the initial incision and opened FurreVa’s thorax from her neck to her pelvis, and was now clamping back the subdermal layers to expose the chest cavity. I pulled the primary laser rig down and activated the lascalpel, then leaned over to have a look.

“Son of a bitch.” The Omorr lifted his head, and I shook mine. “No, not you, Squil. The one who did this to her.” And had gotten away with it, which still infuriated me.

Squilyp ran an organ series as I performed the visual and probe assessments. “Significant vessel damage to both chambers of the heart. Right kidney is compromised, and there are dozens of perforations in the superior colon.

“She never could do anything the easy way.” I couldn’t get a clear take on the central region of the chest cavity—there was simply too much blood and tissue occluding the area. I ordered more suction. “What about the liver?”

The Omorr scanned the female Hsktskt a second time. “Elevated bilirubin, serum alkaline phosphatase, serum aminotransferase, decreased serum albumin and prothrombin time.”

SrrokVar had known exactly where to shoot her to cause the maximum amount of damage. “What else?”

“I’m reading no organic cohesion. Liver cellular loss stands at …” Squilyp scanned her again, before he gazed at me with solemn eyes. “It’s ninety-seven-point-four percent.”

That meant—”No. You’re wrong.”

I thrust his scanner aside and took the suction tube from the nurse using it. Blood and body fluid swamped the cavity. I’d simply evacuate it myself.

“Cherijo—”

“It’s displaced from the impact. I’ll find it, it has to be here.”

A moment later, I pulled the tube from her chest, and the Omorr cleared his throat. In the old days, when we’d been competing for the Senior Healer slot onboard the
Sunlace
, he would have gloated over this. Now all he offered was a silent gaze of sympathy.

“You were right. Okay. I’ll harvest viable cells and clone her a new one.” I pulled a specimen tray, and began to search for a shred of the organ. “We’ll keep her going until I have a replacement organ.”

Membranes took the probe from my hand. “Doctor.”

I grabbed another one from the tray. “No, Squilyp. I’ve put her back together twice before. I can do it again.”

“If there were no other injuries, I would agree with you.” The Omorr came around the table and pushed the tray aside. “Cherijo. She took a full burst, at point-blank range. You have to accept the facts. Her liver has been destroyed.”

I stopped probing the chest cavity and pulled the laser rig down. “Then we’ll keep her in sleep suspension until I can locate a transplant.”

The monitors went off, and Adaola gave me a despairing look. I began resuscitation, biting into my lower lip with each compression. She couldn’t die on me. We’d been through too much together. Echoes of her low, rough voice pounded inside my skull.

Angry.
You are called SsurreVa
? Suffering.
Let me die, Terran
. Wistful.
Reconstruct … this
? Determined.
There will be no more arena games
. Dying.
My young are safe. You are safe. It is enough
.

The monitors slowly flat lined.

We tried electro-stim. More drugs. Nothing worked. The Jorenians stayed out of my way. Squilyp and I worked on her body for a half hour before I finally straightened and slowly stripped off my gloves.

“I’m calling it. Time of death is”—I glanced at the wall console—“oh-nineteen, twenty-two hours.”

The Omorr looked down at the dead Hsktskt. “I’m sorry, Doctor.”

“Thanks.” I gently pulled the surgical shroud up over the peaceful face I’d worked so hard to repair.

Adaola and the nurses intoned a solemn Jorenian chant of passage. I couldn’t seem to move away from the table. It was as if I expected FurreVa to yank aside the linen and shout at me for giving up.

A warm membrane touched my arm. “You did everything you could for her,” the Omorr said. “There was simply too much damage.”

“Yeah.” I tugged my wet mask from my face. “There was.”

Adaola paused in her chant to ask me, “What was her name, Healer?”

I remembered how I’d called her Helen of Troy, and caught a sob before it emerged. “FurreVa. Overseer FurreVa.”

Treating the injured prisoners kept me busy for the rest of the shift. My adopted family, while having no love for the Hsktskt, expressed their sincere sympathy for the loss of my friend.

Squilyp let me work until there was nothing left to be done, then asked if I would do rounds with him in the morning.

“Sure.” I had nothing to do, nowhere to go. “See you then.”

“Cherijo.” I stopped at the door panel. “You told me never to …
mess
with you over a patient you just lost, but if you need someone to talk to—”

I smiled wanly back at him. “You’ll be the one, Squil. Thanks.”

I couldn’t face my empty quarters. Xonea had signaled from the helm that the last of the launches from Catopsa were arriving, so I decided to go down to the launch bay and see what I could do there.

The final shuttle hull doors parted, and the Jorenian team brought two men out. Both were in envirosuits, but their hands had been secured in detainment bonds. I started to ask why, then one of the crew removed their helmets and I saw who they were.

Gael Kelly and Noarr.

“What’s going on here?” I asked one of the Torins. “Why are they tied up like that?”

“We discovered them fighting near an alien vessel.”

“Blue-arsed mentallers! If you’ll not give me a weapon, for pity’s sake, shoot this sleeven before he gets loose.” The Irishman strained at his bonds, then fixed his gaze on me with relief. “
Dote
, tell ‘em to stop acting the maggot!”

A security guard glanced at me. “Our vocollars are not translating what he says, Healer.”

“I know. Gael, you have to speak stanTerran, please.”

“This gouger—this
collaborator
—tried to kill me,
dote
. I told you, he’s been spying for the beasts, and I’ve got proof.”

I glanced at Noarr, who stood in his usual brooding, silent stance. “Is that right?” I motioned for their bonds to be released. “Is what he’s saying true, Noarr?” Not that I believed it.

“Part of it.” The alien slave-runner rubbed the joints above his flippers slowly. “I tried to kill him.”

My eyes widened. “Why?”

“He was attempting to remove prisoners from Catopsa.”

“That’s sort of the general idea, at the moment.”

“He did not intend to bring them here.” Noarr pulled off his hood and turned to Gael, who was visibly seething. “Will you tell her now, or shall I?”

“I will in me ring,” the Terran said, and spat on the deck.

“I think that means no,” I said to the confused Jorenians. “Gael?”

“His name is not Gael.” Noarr folded his arms inside his cloak and regarded the Terran with an expression akin to pity. “It is GaaVar.”

“Aye, right.” The Irishman let out a sputtering laugh. “You’re addled, that’s what you are, sleeven.” He continued in stanTerran. “I was born in Clare, in the Celt Republic, on Terra. Check the database, if you like.”

“I am sure you were.” Noarr pulled his cloak around him. “Your family took you from Terra to immigrate to a new colony. When you were a young child, did they not?”

“I’ve told you all this,
dote
,” Gael said to me.

Noarr stepped closer to the Terran. “How old were you when the Hsktskt attacked your ship?”

“I was but a wee lad.”

“You were an infant. The Hsktskt do not take children hostage. Why did you survive?”

Gael exploded. “I don’t know what the gammy thicks wanted with me! They took me!”

“And adopted you, the same way they adopted me.” Noarr turned and gazed at me. “He was raised by the Hsktskt from infancy. By Lord SrrokVar.”

Before anyone could move, Gael pulled a Hsktskt pistol from the inside of his tunic and lunged in my direction. A moment later, he had me in an armlock, and the business end of the weapon pressed tightly against my cheek.

“Don’t do this, Gael.” I looked at the Jorenians, who had formed a deadly ring around us. White eyes narrowed, claws emerged. “They’ll kill you.”

He pointed the gun at Noarr. “In the shuttle. Now. Or this scanger bitch dies.”

I warned the Jorenians to stay back as we entered the shuttle and Gael shoved Noarr toward the helm.

“Fly this gammy crate out of here.”

“They’ll come after us.” Gael’s shove made me fall against the harness rigging. I clutched it to regain my footing. “You don’t have to slave for the Hsktskt anymore. Give yourself up, and I’ll help you get back to Terra.”

“Terra?” He laughed. “You’re off your nut.”

“I think you can drop the dialect now,” I said as he tied me into the harness.

“It took me years to learn. Still, you’re right. I don’t need it anymore, do I?”

“Not anymore,” I agreed.

Gael watched Noarr pilot the shuttle out from the launch bay. “Input these into the navigation array,” he said, and rattled off some coordinates.

The slave-runner hesitated. “That will take us directly to the Hsktskt homeworld.”

“My homeworld,” Gael said.

“No, it isn’t,” I said.

He turned to me. “He was telling you the truth, Doctor. I was captured by the Faction when I was six months old. Lord SrrokVar adopted me, raised me, trained me. You’re the first Terran I’ve ever seen in my life.” He spat at my feet. “And the last, I hope.”

“You were the spy all along,” I said slowly.

“And you are supposed to be so bright. Yes, I provided inside intelligence on the slave population to my parent.” He fingered the pistol in his hand. “I’m relieved it’s over. Warm-bloods are disgusting, sniveling creatures.”

“You’re warm-blooded, too.”

“I am the son of a Hsktskt Lord.” Gael gave me an eerie smile, one that reminded me of SrrokVar. “He taught me well.”

“I’ll bet he did.” I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye and blinked. “So you’re going to take us back to the homeworld, and … what? Sell us as slaves?”

“For the crimes you committed against the Faction?” Gael laughed. “I’m going to have you tortured, then publicly executed.”

Lieutenant Wonlee emerged from a cargo hatch behind Gael, and I kept my gaze fixed on the Hsktskt spy. “I know what SrrokVar must have done to you as a child. Let me help you, Gael.”

“I wouldn’t—”

Wonlee jumped on Gael’s back, knocking the pistol to the deck and sending the Terran into an interior hull panel. Noarr immediately steered
the ship around, sending both men to the deck, while I fumbled with the clips on my harness.

It was over so quickly that Gael was bleeding and tied up by the time the launch landed back on the
Sunlace
. An angry Xonea entered the shuttle, carrying one of his multibladed weapons, and dragged the Terran out onto the deck. I hurried after them.

“Don’t hurt him, it’s not his fault—”

Before I could stop him, Gael got to his feet. “For my father!” he screamed, then thrust himself upon the eight blades in Xonea’s hands.

Noarr and I rushed over, but the Irishman was already dead.

“He chose his path well,” Xonea said, and wiped the blood from his blades on Gael’s tunic.

“He hid behind the mask of his own face,” I said, kneeling beside him and closing his eyes. What kind of father had SrrokVar been? I wondered, then shuddered instinctively. “And was probably abused most of his life.”

“Not everyone who is abused chooses to betray,” Noarr said.

“You should know.” I got to my feet and faced him. “You can take that mask off your face now.”

The Jorenians made sounds of astonishment as Noarr stripped off his flippers, then inserted his thumbs under a concealed flap, and slowly peeled away the false face. When he revealed his features to the crew, several of them appeared to be staggered by his true identity.