Plague of Memory Read online

  Praise for the Novels of

  S. L. Viehl

  Rebel Ice

  “Well-drawn cultures and fascinating aliens.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “It’s fast, fun, character-driven, and left me wanting more … one of my all-time favorite sci-fi series.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Both gritty and realistic.”

  —Romantic Times

  “A thrilling addition to the series.”

  —Booklist

  “A wonderful piece of space opera.”

  —SFRevu

  “Seems very realistic—almost as if the author visited that world and decided to write about it. Rebel Ice is a terrific outer space science fiction novel.”

  —Bookwatch

  StarDoc

  “I don’t read much science fiction, but I got ahold of a manuscript copy of StarDoc and just loved it. Don’t miss this one.”

  —Catherine Coulter

  “Space opera somewhat reminiscent of C. J. Cherryh’s early work.”

  —Chronicle

  “An entertaining, almost old-fashioned adventure … the adventure and quirky mix of aliens and cultures make a fun combination.”

  —Locus

  “An excellent protagonist …. [Viehl has] set the stage for an interesting series of interspecies medical adventures.”

  —Space.com

  “Space opera and medical melodrama mix with a dash of romance in this engaging novel…. A rousing good yarn, with plenty of plot twists, inventive scene setting, and quirky characters to keep readers thoroughly entertained … StarDoc is a fun adventure story, with an appealing heroine, a lot of action, a sly sense of humor, and wonders aplenty.”

  —SF Site

  “A fascinating reading experience … a wonderful heroine.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Beyond Varallan

  “[Cherijo is] an engaging lead character …. Viehl skillfully weaves in the clues to build a murder mystery with several surprising ramifications.”

  —Space.com

  Endurance

  “An exciting science fiction tale … fast-paced and exciting…. SF fans will fully enjoy S. L. Viehl’s entertaining entry in one of the better ongoing series today.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “[Endurance] gets into more eclectic and darker territory than most space opera, but it’s a pretty engrossing trip. Recommended.”

  —Hypatia’s Hoard

  “A rousing medical space opera…. Viehl employs misdirection and humor, while not defusing the intense plot development that builds toward an explosive conclusion.”

  —Romantic Times

  Shockball

  “Genetically enhanced fun…. Cherijo herself has been justly praised as a breath of fresh air—smart [and] saucy…. The reader seems to be invited along as an amicable companion, and such is the force of Cherijo’s personality that it sounds like fun.”

  —Science Fiction Weekly

  “Fast-paced … an entertaining installment in the continuing adventures of the StarDoc”.

  —Locus

  “An exhilarating science fiction space adventure. The zestful story line stays at warp speed…. Cherijo is as fresh as ever…. Fans of futuristic outer space novels will want to take off with this tale and the three previous StarDoc books as all four stories take the audience where they rarely have been before.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Eternity Row

  “Space opera at its very best…. Viehl has created a character and a futuristic setting that is second to none in its readability, quality, and social mores.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “S. L. Viehl serves readers her usual highly entertaining mix of humor and space opera. This episode is enlivened by the antics of her daughter, Marel, and by an exploration of aging and immortality. As usual I look forward to the next in an exciting series.”

  —BookLoons

  Blade Dancer

  “Fast-moving, thought-provoking, and just plain damn fun. S. L. Viehl has once again nailed it.”

  —Linda Howard

  “A heartrending, passionate, breathtaking adventure of a novel that rips your feet out from under you on page one and never lets you regain them until the amazing finale. Stunning.”

  —Holly Lisle

  Bio Rescue

  “Like Anne McCaffrey, only with more aliens … entertaining.”

  —SF Crowsnest

  Bio Rescue

  “Viehl does a good job of telling the story, with believable alien as well as human characters and with more romantic emphasis than you usually see in SF.”

  —SFRevu

  ALSO BY S. L. VIEHL

  StarDoc

  Beyond Varallan

  Endurance

  Shockball

  Eternity Row

  Rebel Ice

  Blade Dancer

  Bio Rescue

  Afterburn

  PLAGUE OF

  MEMORY

  A StarDoc Novel

  S. L. Viehl

  A ROC BOOK

  ROC

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,

  Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park,

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  Penguin Group (NZ), cnr Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany,

  Auckland 1310, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue,

  Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, January 2007

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

  Copyright © S. L. Viehl, 2007

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  Printed in the United States of America

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any o
ther means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  For Frank and Gretchen Andrew,

  gone but not forgotten.

  Thank you for being my friend, Frank.

  “We make war that we may live in peace.”

  —Aristotle

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  ONE

  I did not often think of abducting my daughter, stealing a launch and leaving the Sunlace, the ensleg ship upon which we presently lived. Perhaps two or three times during my waking hours did I consider how it could be done, and only when there were no ensleg near me.

  The other people on the ship never left me alone for very long.

  I woke up one morning, several weeks after joining the crew, and thought myself alone until I saw the beast. It sat only a few inches from my face. It stared at me, its eyes the color of old ice, its thick pelt in the gray shades of storm-brewing skies. The beast was, like the crew, ensleg—not from my homeworld of Akkabarr—but I knew it did not like me. As I sat up, it hunkered down and made a low, rumbling sound like that of a jlorra prepared to make a kill.

  “Try,” I told him, showing him my blade as I did every time he came to threaten me. “I will wear your fur.”

  The beast rose on all fours, the hair around his neck bristling before he backed slowly away. His mate, a black-furred, smaller feline, stood watch by the door panel. The two touched noses and padded out of my daughter’s room.

  I rose with care from the place on the floor where I slept, and in silence scanned the area. Sounds told me that the child was taking care of her needs in the privy room. I went to check anyway. In this place, I could not take anything for granted.

  Once I assured that my daughter was reasonably safe, I left her room and went to the metal box where I stored the garments the ensleg had given me to wear. I took out the blue-and-white uniform that I was obliged to wear while working as a healer, and the strap-sheaths and blades I had carried during the rebellion. Here on the ship I did not have to hide my features behind a head wrap, as was proper for women on Akkabarr, or under a mask formed by the sentient mold my husband called Lok-teel, as I had when I was vral. These ensleg thought nothing of looking upon a woman’s face. I had never shown mine to so many; it made me feel naked.

  “Cherijo.”

  I fastened the front of my tunic and clipped on my belt before I turned to face my husband.

  Duncan Reever, the Terran linguist who had taken me to wife, stood a short distance away. Tall, lean, and very fit, my husband had the same golden hair and curious, color-changing eyes as Marel, our daughter.

  He held out his hand. “Please give me the blades.”

  I curled my fingers around the hilts of the two I wore on either side of my belt. My daggers had been gifts from various Iisleg warriors grateful for my healing. I was very fond of them. Although my impulse was to immediately obey him—among my people, a woman did not argue with a man’s orders—Reever had made it clear that it was acceptable among his kind for me and every other woman to question any such command.

  So I did. “Why?”

  “You are making the cats and the Jorenians nervous,” he told me. “None of the other crew members report for duty armed with six different weapons, and I have told you before that Jenner and Juliet will not harm you.”

  I usually carried eight blades, not that I would volunteer such information. Reever knew enough about me.

  “The ensleg will grow accustomed to my ways,” I suggested, although I only meant the Jorenians. The small, sharp-toothed beasts perpetually stalked me. Them I thought I might have to kill.

  He frowned. “You are ensleg, too.”

  My body might be ensleg, but my soul had been born on the ice-bound slave world of Akkabarr. Whatever Reever wished to think of me, I was Iisleg, one of the people of the ice.

  “Weapons are not necessary here,” my husband said. “We are no longer at war.”

  He wasn’t. Each day for me was a battle against the strange, unfamiliar, and disturbing newness of my life. I also suspected it would be a very long time before the fight ended, if it ever did.

  “War is like death,” I said. “It comes regardless of invitation.”

  “It came, and it left.” A faint edge colored his tone. “You refused to touch weapons in the past. You hated them.”

  There, the first shot in the day’s battle: Another reminder of a past that did not belong to me, a life I had not lived. It gave me another reason to dislike the female who had once inhabited my mind and body. Cherijo had been trusting and foolish enough to walk about unarmed. I carried daggers.

  Why could he not see that my way was better? After all that had happened, we owed it to ourselves and our child to be on our guard. It was not as if she had ever given any thought to our personal safety.

  I must not despise her, I thought. If not for Cherijo, I would not exist. I could not fight a memory.

  Still, they were my blades, not hers. “My former self hated weapons. I do not. This ship is strange to me, as are you and all who serve on it.” I would not plead—it was beneath my dignity to behave like some frightened tribeswoman—but I had learned to use his odd concern for me to obtain what I wished. “The blades give me comfort.”

  Reever’s face never showed any emotion, but he would look away whenever I spoke of any thing he disliked, as if he could not bear the sight of me. “Would you conceal them in your garments, so they are not where they can be seen?”

  “If they are not seen, I will be viewed as defenseless,” I pointed out. He was ensleg; it was not his fault that he did not understand how wisely the Iisleg lived. “A show of weapons is as much a deterrent as the use of them. These ensleg on the ship—”

  “Jorenians.”

  “These Jorenians are ruthless fighters.” This I knew from firsthand experience serving Teulon Jado, an enslaved Jorenian who had become the Raktar of the Iisleg rebellion. “I would earn their respect by demonstrating that I am not helpless.”

  “I understand your logic,” Reever assured me, “but by wearing them so openly you are also frightening some of the children.”

  I frowned. “I am?” He nodded. “Why? They are the children of warriors, are they not?”

  “They remember you as you were.” He touched my face. “Please, Joey.”

  Joey was his pet name for my former self. He had others as well: beloved, wife, Waenara. I did not understand his need for so many. Had not one been enough?

  I would have to consult Cherijo’s journal files again.

  Each day I put aside my plans to escape to learn more about the woman who had lived in my body before me. Dr. Cherijo Torin had been a Terran surgeon who left her homeworld to be a healer to other ensleg beings. From the files Cherijo had written about her life, she had also cured a plague that thought, stopped a disturbed killer, saved this ship upon which we traveled, allowed the Jorenians to adopt her, become enslaved, led a revolt and destroyed a slave depot, returned to Terra to confront her father, and cured another plague on her home-world and two more on other worlds, before witnessing the Jado Massacre and being captured by the League and taken to Akkabarr to be sold as a slave.

  Simply reading about all the woman had done made me feel weary.

  If the journals were true, disaster, heartbreak, and death had chased my former self as
fervently as the mercenaries wishing to collect the various bounties on her head. I felt I would be very happy not remembering a single moment of Cherijo’s life. It had not been a pleasant one.

  “I will wear my daggers beneath my garments.” I watched the fine tension lines around Reever’s mouth relax. “Someday, will these people accept me for what I am?”

  “It will not be necessary.” Reever sounded more confident now. “It is only a matter of time before you remember who you are.”

  My own past was brief and uncomplicated in comparison. I had been born in Cherijo’s body after her ship crashed on Akkabarr and her mind had been erased. For more than two years I had lived as Jarn, a handler of the dead and later a vral battlefield healer among the Iisleg, the natives who inhabited the surface of the ice world. I had borrowed the name from the true Jarn, who had also lost her identity on the day my mind had been wiped clean of Cherijo’s memories.

  Reever and the others on this ship were waiting for me to revert back to the woman for whom they cared.

  I did not believe it would happen. My friend, the true Jarn, had eventually regained her memories, but I never had. Inside my head, there was only me; my personality, my memories. I suspected that all Cherijo Torin had been had died on Akkabarr, and her passing had left behind only an empty shell for my use. That was why it was so difficult to make myself answer to her name.

  I was not Cherijo Torin. I had never been.

  The real Jarn had also acquired a new name for herself—Resa—by the time we met again on Akkabarr, more than two years after the crash that had so altered both of us. We became friends and joined the native rebellion, serving Raktar Teulon together. The war on Akkabarr had been long, bloody, and, at times, terrifying. It had ended only when Teulon used it to stop another, intergalactic war between the reptilian slaver Hsktskt Faction and the space-colonizing Allied League of Worlds.

  Resa was with Teulon now, helping to negotiate peace between the League and the Faction. That my friends had found happiness together pleased me, but too often I missed them. They had never known me as Cherijo. They had been the most important people in my life as Jarn.