Omega Games (25 page)

“Eggs and sperm could have been harvested from unconscious captives and combined in vitro,” I suggested, recalling our conversation from last night. “All they would then need is a surrogate reptilian to bear the brood.”

He nodded. “Or a pregnant female may have done as TssVar’s mate did, and concealed her pregnancy while away from Vtaga. The maternal instinct to protect is very strong. She might not have committed suicide in captivity to protect the brood.”

He cleared the screen. “If you took a physical sample of Tya’s DNA, could you learn more about her than you have with the scanner?”

“At most, I could create a genetic profile, and extrapolate the same for each of her parents.” I frowned. “Why would you wish to know that?”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “What I was hoping was, could you tell from a physical sample if someone has tampered with her DNA?”

“Tampered?”

“Changed it without her knowledge,” he explained. “Anything that would explain her more unusual characteristics.”

I thought about it. “If such tampering was chemically induced, or molecularly spliced, and I had the proper equipment, likely I could tell you. Those types of procedures create minute flaws in the strands of the helix. They result in sterility and other aberrant reactions.” I met his gaze. “What are you thinking, that she has been engineered?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he said. “But if you can manage to obtain the samples, I would like you to test Drefan’s and Mercy’s DNA as well.”

Fourteen

Drefan sent a drone to our quarters with a long, flat container and an invitation to join him for the evening meal interval. Reever accepted while I opened the container and took out the garments inside.

“A black jacket and trousers, a white tunic, and a red robe covered over with crystal beads.” I showed each piece to my husband before holding the trousers and jacket up against my body. “Too long for me, but I can cut off the ends.”

“He sent clothing?”

“Neither of us have more than a single change of garments. Perhaps he is tired of seeing us in the same things.” I handed him the robe, which seemed as fine as any rasakt’s, except for some missing material at the top. “You are meant to wear the white tunic over the top of this robe, I think.”

“The robe is called a ‘gown,’ and it is made for a female Terran. The trousers, tunic, and jacket are for me.” Reever made me switch the garments with him. “On the homeworld, these are called formal wear. You don’t wear any other garments over the gown.”

“You lie.” I held up the skimpy top by the two narrow beaded straps attached to it and measured the fabric with a dismayed eye. “This is indecent. It will barely cover my breasts.”

“That is the idea.”

“And these?” I removed a pair of spiked red objects from the container. I frowned at the blunt tips of the spikes. “If these are weapons, they need honing.”

He took one from me. “They’re footgear.”

Reever unfastened one of the straps and insisted I put it on my bare foot. Straps over the toes and heel kept it in place, but when I tried to stand, my leg buckled.

“I cannot walk on these spikes,” I said, taking it off. “My ankles will break.” “Very well.” He placed the bizarre footgear back in the container. “The skirt of the gown is long. It should cover your boots.”

My chin dropped. “I am not wearing that thing.” “Yes, you are,” he said firmly. “On my homeworld,” I pointed out, “women do not show their
faces
uncovered, much less half their

bodies.” Reever coughed. “Think of it as a way to explore your true planet of origin.” Terra was Cherijo’s homeworld, not mine. I didn’t care how indecent her people were with their bodies;

I could see no reason to wear the gown. Reever seemed equally determined to see me in it. Unless . . . “If you wish me to couple with Drefan, only say so,” I suggested, keeping my expression bland. “I do not

need to flaunt my body in such a garment simply to inflame his needs. I can disrobe as soon as I am inside.” Reever took the gown from me. “Jarn, I promise you, I will never ask you to couple with anyone but

me.”

I could keep pretending I did not understand the mysterious ways of ensleg males, but I had the feeling he knew exactly what I was doing—and on some level, it amused him. “As you say, Husband.” I dressed that evening in the gown. Although the reality of seeing so much of my body exposed did

horrify me on several levels, Reever insisted that I looked “charming.” He refused to allow me to cover my bared skin with anything, even my unbound hair.

I made as much fuss as I dared. “I do not like this robe, or gown, or whatever it is,” I said as we walked to Drefan’s quarters. I had just discovered I had three freckles on my chest, and all of them were showing. “I can feel the air all over the top of me. Garphawayn said I should not let you decide how my hair is worn.”

“Squilyp’s mate is a militant feminist who thinks all males should be collared and made to serve females, ”

he replied. “Preferably on their knee. But that was a nice try.” Suddenly I wanted to be a militant feminist, too. Whatever that was. “If I were on Akkabarr I would be freezing to death. Females on Terra truly dress like this?”

“Our homeworld has a pleasant climate, so there is no physical reason to wear heavy protective garments, ” he explained. “The female body is also much admired, so women there display it proudly.” “And they are not attacked, or stolen?” I could not imagine such a culture. “Or whipped to death?” “You are a doctor,” Reever said. “You know there is nothing obscene about the naked body.”

Keel greeted us at the entrance to Drefan’s quarters, which contained a great many images of skies on the walls. Not only was Trellus’s black, star-specked sky depicted, but those of many other worlds. Reever pointed to one that looked like old ice dotted with snow and told me that it belonged to Terra.

“Of all the deprivations I suffered while I was in the mines,” Drefan said as he slowly walked out to greet us, “not being able to see the sky bothered me the most. Doctor, you look beautiful in that dress. Just like a normal Terran woman.”

I eyed his prosthetic legs and arm, which he used with a certain amount of awkwardness. “You look more like a normal Terran male with limbs attached. ”

Drefan laughed. “Point taken.” He glanced down and saw the toes of my boots sticking out from under the hem of the gown. “You did not care for the heels I sent?”

“I think they would be valuable if I ever needed to kick a Rilken,” I said, “but I cannot walk on the spiked part.”

“A sensible attitude.” He gestured toward the adjoining room. “Keel has dinner prepared. Please, come in and sit down.”

The table in the next room had narrow, burning pillars of different lengths, which Reever identified as small torches called “candles.” They were not very effective in lighting the room, but their glow reminded me of the heart of a heat arc, banked for the night. Such things could be pleasant to gaze upon.

Around the candles three places had been set for eating. I did not recognize the tableware, which had gold rims and images of flowers and leaves under a thin transparent glaze. Breast-shaped servers, balanced atop flimsy-looking plas stems, made me cringe a little.

Keel carried in a platter with a respectable-looking haunch of meat surrounded by vegetables cut into unnatural shapes. The Chakacat filled the servers from a plas bottle of dark red liquid and pulled out the chairs.

“That is called merlot, a type of Terran wine,” Reever murmured to me as I picked up my server gingerly and studied the beverage. “The meat is roasted beef. Around it are root vegetables called potatoes, carrots, and onions.”

“You have only the roots to eat?” I whispered back. “Where is the rest of the plant?”

Reever started to reply, and then said, “I will explain later.”

I sniffed the merlot before sampling a tiny sip. It smelled and tasted strongly of alcohol, old fruit, and wood. I squelched a desire to ask for water and attended my meal, which Keel had begun heaping on my plate.

Reever also tested his wine and food, and looked at the games master in surprise. “This is real, not synth.”

“I have been saving the last of my stores from the homeworld for a special occasion,” Drefan told him. He turned to me. “How do you like the wine, Doctor? ”

Obviously it was precious to him, or he would not have hoarded it. I tried to think of something to say that would not offend him, and noticed how the candlelight illuminated the deep color of the wine. “It is

very pretty.” Eager to change the subject, I glanced down at my plate. “Did you kill this roasted beef yourself?” Drefan smiled. “Alas, I did not. On Terra, beef is domesticated. We breed and raise it.”

I tried to work out his meaning. “Like . . . Keel?” “No, not like me,” the Chakacat said. “My kind are bred to be pets, companions, and servants. Terran beef is bred to serve as food.”

I nibbled at the inside of my bottom lip. “They cannot just go out and kill something on the homeworld? ”

Drefan laughed. “I’m afraid not, Doctor. Hunting for food on Terra is no longer necessary or permitted. Those who wish to kill their food must pretend to do so with simulated hunts.” “Maybe that is why Terrans are so hostile,” I said to my husband. “They have no purposeful outlet like

hunting for their aggressions.” To the games master I said, “But the roasted beef is very nice. Much like

the ptar we snared on my homeworld. Except that it does not have a beak or claws.” “I’m glad that you’re enjoying it. Do you plan to ever take your wife back to Terra?” Drefan asked Reever.

“Only if I wish to start a riot,” my husband replied. “Or a cult that subjugates and abuses females. ” I was about to tell him that I had never subjugated or abused anyone, when something exploded outside

Drefan’s quarters. A waft of smoke came into the dining area, accompanied by Mercy, dressed in battle gear modified to fit her small frame. “Sorry to interrupt your meal,” she said, tucking a pistol under her belt, “but we have a situation.” “You mean, besides the door panel controls that you just blasted?” Drefan asked. Mercy tossed a datapad across the table at him, which he caught with his real hand. “Cat picked up the

signal; we’ve been monitoring the
Renko
. It’s encrypted. Guess where it came from, and where is the

Hsktskt?” “I did not signal Davidov, and neither did Tya.” Drefan skimmed the display. “Cat only traced it back to Omega Dome?”

“He would have pinpointed the location of the transceiver, but the signal lasted only fifteen seconds. ” Mercy tapped her fingers against the insides of her upper arms. “I repeat, where is the Hsktskt? I want to introduce her to Posbret and his boys.”

“I can’t let you do that, Mercy.” Drefan put down the datapad. “Tya did not send this signal. She has

neither the means nor the opportunity to do so.” “No problem, I know how to find her. I’ll just follow the stink of death.” She swiveled around and stalked out of the room.

Drefan rose and braced himself against the table. “Keel, get my chair and help me out of these

prosthetics. Duncan, would you be so kind as to stop my friend from killing my Hsktskt?” I got up from my seat. “I am going with you.” Before my husband could reply, I added, “She likes me. She may listen to me.”

“She is using one of the hand-to-hand simulators, ” Keel said, and gave us directions and the code to bypass the drone keeping watch over the Hsktskt while she practiced. “I will signal Cat. He can help talk some sense into her. Go.”

We hurried out into the corridor, and Reever took my arm. “I will try not to hurt her, but she is very angry. I will probably have to knock her out.”

“I had to sedate her yesterday,” I said, wishing I had brought my case with me. We ran to the game simulator where Tya was practicing. On the way we had to avoid several inert drones that Mercy had apparently disabled. The bottom folds of the gown kept tangling around my legs, until I finally stopped and pulled out my knife.

“If females on Terra do wear such garments, our species should be extinct.” I slashed at the cloth,

quickly cutting most of it away from my legs before continuing on. We caught up with Mercy outside the game simulator. She shot the drone guarding the entrance before turning her pistol toward us and firing over our heads.

“You’re not pumping me full of drugs this time.” She backed into the open panels and shut them before