Eternity Row, page 8
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.
“Not that I’m condoning it at all,” I quickly added. “She probably didn’t know.”
“She was given the standard protocol briefing that everyone who joins the crew receives.” Darea eyed me. “Would you ever try to violate my bond with Salo?”
“No, but—”
“Yet you come from the same culture as this one.” She reached down and grabbed Ilona by the front of her tunic, clearly ready to hurl the girl out of the room.
Salo stepped in and grabbed her hands. “Darea, Cherijo has lived among us before. This female has not, and perhaps she did not understand the protocol. I am certain she will not attempt to do this again. Is this not correct, Ilona Red Faun?”
The Terran girl coughed and nodded.
Darea stared at her bondmate’s fingers, curled around her wrists. “Release me. I have the right to instruct as Chosen and bonded.”
Salo’s jaw sagged for a moment; then he snapped it shut and stepped away.
“What does that mean?” I looked at Squilyp, who only shrugged, as puzzled as I was. “Darea, what’s that mean?”
“I will teach this outsider what it means to be bonded within the HouseClan, and assure she will not make the same mistake again. Tomorrow, at shift commencement.” Darea kicked Ilona out of her way and stomped out of the games room. Salo stayed behind and watched as Squilyp and I helped Ilona up from the deck.
“I’d better take her to Medical and treat these contusions,” the Omorr said as he put an arm around the Terran girl’s waist. “See you in the morning, Doctor. Salo.”
That left me standing with Darea’s bemused bondmate, who was still staring at the deck where Ilona had fallen.
I cleared my throat to get his attention. “How bad is this, Salo? Can’t you talk Darea out of it?”
“Not when our bond has been violated. It is a serious matter.” He started for the door.
“Wait a minute.” I went after him. “How serious? Don’t tell me they fight to the death or something.”
“No.” He expelled a long breath. “They fight to decide who gets me.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Lessons in Protocol
Reever and I discussed the challenge the next morning over breakfast, and I found out he knew a lot more about bond protocols than I did.
I checked the time on our main console. “The fight starts in about an hour. You’re sure they don’t beat the daylights out of each other?”
He poured me another server of morning tea. “They pit themselves against a series of obstacles to prove their strength and agility.”
Darea would win, hands down, I thought as I wiped Marel’s face, which she’d smeared with jaspkerry jam. “What happens to Ilona when she loses?”
Marel gave me a cheerful smile. “CanAnn Darea beads da wides owda her.”
I glanced at Reever. “Is she right?”
“If she prevails, the bondmate has the right initiate a nonlethal bout, yes.”
“Great.” Sometimes Jorenian customs made very little sense to me, but this one moved to the top of the list. I rested my aching brow against one hand. “They do this in an environome, I presume.”
“Yes.” My husband lifted our kid out of her chair and brushed a fine layer of toast crumbs off her tunic. “Go and wash your hands, avasa; then I will take you to school.”
As soon as she left us, I asked, “Darea wins, maybe beats up Ilona, and that’s it, right? No one starts interior decorating with anyone’s entrails?”
“That is all, unless Ilona prevails.”
That wasn’t going to happen in a million, zillion years, but I gulped down the rest of my tea anyway. “If she does, what?”
“Darea must embrace the stars.”
“You’re kidding.” I watched his face, hoping to see one of those rare smiles. No smile. “Jesus. You’re not kidding.”
“I must take Marel now, then report for duty. I know you will do what you can for Ilona.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his. “I missed you last night. Do not work late again today, beloved.”
In spite of my current worries, I felt the jolt I never got used to hit me as his fingers entwined briefly with mine. “I’ll try not to.”
As a precaution, Squilyp sent a couple of nurses with me to monitor the challenge. Half the crew had already crowded into the largest environome on the ship on level fourteen, where Darea was already warming up. I pushed my way through the mob of big blue giants to enter the warrior’s quad.
“Darea, got a minute?”
Salo’s bondmate stopped stretching and stood up, towering over me. Her hands were in tight fists. “I will not be persuaded to alter my path, Healer.”
“Take it easy. I’m not the one messing with your marriage, remember?” I glanced at the other side of the quad. Still empty. Maybe Ilona would have a bright moment and not show up. “My concern is about what happens if you don’t win.”
Darea flexed her hands, cracking knuckles as the crowd parted and Ilona hesitantly walked in. “I will prevail.”
“Is that what you told Fasala this morning?”
My friend got mad. “You do not understand our customs. Salo Chose me, and I him. Allowing another to come between us would sully our bond forever.” She turned a little, looking up at the galley where her bondmate sat. “Bonds are sacred things, Healer. They cannot be made lightly, or taken for granted. Interference in such creates rifts between Chosen, and must not be tolerated.”
I thought it was a bit much, even for the loyalty-loving Jorenians, to expect no one to flirt with their spouses. Then I saw Qonja headed my way, and decided to try another approach, fast. “You have to know how much Salo loves you.”
She tilted her head. “What does luhuvs mean?”
I forgot, “love” didn’t translate into Jorenian. “Honors. I meant he honors you. He certainly doesn’t want anything to do with Ilona.”
“It is not only about Salo. My feelings are of equal importance. What is mine is to be kept mine, and sullied by no other.” She stretched her long arms over her head. “How would you feel if that Terran female acted improperly toward Duncan?”
Since I’d gotten into a fistfight with Ilona over pretty much the same thing, all I could say was, “Point taken.”
Giving up on persuading the enraged Jorenian spouse to see reason, and determined to avoid the Boy Shrink, I went over to parley with the offender. “Call it off, Ilona. Tell her you’re sorry and you’ll never do it again. Throw in some begging for mercy while you’re at it.”
The Terran girl stripped off her tunic. “I am not afraid of her.”
I hauled her over to a corner and made her face me. “Look, I know we have our differences, but this is serious. If Darea wins, she will pound you into the deck.”
“She will not win.”
I tightened my grip. “And if that happens, she has to commit ritual suicide.”
Ilona didn’t blink. “Then Salo will be in need of a new woman, will he not?”
Reminding myself that the little snot had endured a deprived existence on Terra, I clenched my teeth. “What happened to your beloved Dhreen?”
Her confident expression clouded. “You heard him. I am nothing to him but a weight around his neck. If he survives his injuries, he will not care for me anymore.” She tucked her arms around her waist. “He has discarded me.”
“For God’s sake, Ilona, he was delirious when he said that!”
Her brows arched. “I must look after my future. Now leave me alone.”
I released her and stalked off, but her attitude actually didn’t surprise me. Ilona’s culture encouraged her to attach herself to the strongest male as a matter of protection and survival. Dhreen’s rejection must have made her panic and go after Salo.
Who was the next person I needed to chat with? I spotted him sitting in the front of the gallery Darea had programmed for spectators. Unfortunately, Tall, Blue, and Bothersome got in my way first.
“Healer Cherijo, may I have a word with you?”
I wondered how hard it would be to eviscerate someone with my bare hands. I didn’t have claws, so I’d need a blade. “No.”
“I’ve changed my mind—”
“Does the new one work any better?” I went around him and got to Salo. The resident gave me a frustrated look, then left the environome. Which allowed me to concentrate on my friend, not on how much I wanted to throttle the Boy Shrink. “Hey, big guy. This is a real mess, isn’t it?”
“Cherijo.” He gave me an unhappy look. “Darea has never been so angry.”
“I noticed.” I sat down beside him. “I tried to talk to both of them, but they’re not listening. How about you? Is there something you can do to stop this?”
“Darea is within her rights to demand the threefold challenge. It is an archaic custom, noted only in the books of the First House, but remains valid.”
I recalled Salo collected old books. “You should watch what your wife reads. It may end up costing Ilona her life.”
“I do not believe Darea will kill her.” He didn’t sound too certain of that as he gestured toward Ilona. “She brought it upon herself when she chose to violate our bond, although why she did still mystifies me.”
Even before Varena brought journey philosophy to his people, the Jorenians had never indulged in infidelity. According to Reever, it was a matter of animal instinct overriding sociological development—whatever that meant. The fact remained: Salo’s people mated for life. Even after the loss of a bondmate, they rarely Chose again, so the old Terran vow of “until death do us part” had little meaning for them.
They also had no idea how attractive they were to anyone who appreciated big, healthy humanoid males, and Salo had the bad luck of being one of the best-looking guys on the ship.
“Ilona’s upbringing on Terra taught her to form a sexual alliance with the strongest male in her tribe,” I explained as the environome deck cleared of everyone but the two females. “I really don’t think she understood the Jorenian protocols regarding personal relationships.”
Salo made a faintly commiserating sound. “She is about to be taught the finer details.” He went on to explain the first challenge as Darea’s program initiated. “Each female proves her strength by disabling a physically superior opponent.”
