Omega Games Page 11

  “The next time we go sojourning,” I told Duncan as we followed the games master out of his quarters, “we are bringing an entire cargo hold of credits with us.”

  Drefan escorted me and Reever to our rooms, and bid us good night. I expected him to lock us in, but the door panel controls were enabled inside.

  “He is very trusting,” I said as I secured the entrance.

  “The entire facility is under constant monitor,” my husband said as he walked around and inspected the place. “That is why I was not able to come to you. He will also be watching our every move.” He pointed to several areas. “Tell me what happened with the Tingalean.”

  I recounted how I had been escorted by drednocs from Mercy House, and described the Tingalean’s vicious attack. “It used a mining laser on them. They never had a chance to defend themselves.”

  “Drones are mechanized constructs, Jarn,” Reever said. “Not people.”

  “It still wasn’t fair.” I went to the external viewer, which showed the remains of the old ore-processing towers. “Do you sense how afraid they are?”

  “Colonists who are isolated like this often developsuspicious natures,” Reever said. “Davidov’s blockade has not helped.”

  “I think it is more than that.” There was only one substance I knew that could invoke the worst fears of an entire population: Odnallak bone dust, which an old enemy of Cherijo’s had used to infect the Hsktskt on their homeworld. The plague on Vtaga had brought out primal fears invoked by the memories of an ancient, extinct threat. “SrrokVar could not have infected this planet. He never had the chance to send PyrsVar offplanet with the bone dust.” A thought occurred to me. “Could someone else have taken it from Vtaga?”

  “TssVar saw to it that the entire supply was destroyed. However, all that is needed to create it are the bones of an Odnallak.” Reever came to stand behind me. “Do you believe the colonists’ paranoia to be that excessive?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps my own fears are magnifying things. I will scan them for dust contamination when I begin the medical exams.” Once more I saw the Tingalean’s blood-rimmed eyes in my mind, which puzzled me. “Can you retrieve some specifics about the Tingalean species on the room terminal?”

  Reever went over to the console and input an inquiry. “The colonial database offers only general information. “

  I looked at the screen. “There.” I pointed to one submenu header on species anatomy. “I need to see this section.” Reever pulled up the data, and I studiedthe text and diagram that appeared. “Magnify the optic structures.” As the screen filled with the Tingalean’s cranial case, I noted the muscle encircling the being’s orbital socket membrane. “As I thought. There are no blood vessels.”

  Reever looked. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “In the Tingalean’s eye sockets, there are no blood vessels. The eye structure is protected by a mucusoid layer surrounding it and the optic nerve bundle.” I gnawed at my bottom lip. “I know that I saw blood in its eyes, all around the rims.”

  “If it had a head injury, the blood might have run into the eyes,” Reever said.

  I concentrated, recalling the blur of the Tingalean’s features. “It was not injured or bleeding. There were no penetrating wounds to its face or skull. The only way to cause that much bleeding in this species would be to pull its eyes from the sockets, sever the optic nerves, and then push them back in place. But doing that would blind it, and this one could see perfectly.”

  “It may have attacked someone before you,” Reever said. “The blood of its victim may have gotten into its eyes.”

  I shook my head. “The blood was Tingalean in color.”

  “I will check to see how many of its kind are on Trellus. “ Reever switched the screen to the colonial census database, and input a population inquiry. “There is only one Tingalean listed as residing on colony.”

  “So the blood didn’t come from another Tingalean. “ I frowned. “Is there a death record listed for a second?” When he shook his head, I exhaled in frustration. “How many people are on Trellus?”

  “According to colonial census, two thousand, four hundred and eight have permanent residence status,” my husband read from the screen. “Eighty-two visitors have arrived but not departed.”

  Something occurred to me. “What was the population count seven days ago?”

  He changed the date of the inquiry. “Two thousand, four hundred and eleven.” Before I could ask, he added, “There were no deaths recorded during the last week.”

  If the three missing colonists had died, the information should have been immediately put into the database. That was standard procedure, even among independent outposts and secluded societies.

  A vague dread settled over me. “What was the population count thirty days ago?”

  “Two thousand, four hundred and twenty-three.” He paused. “No deaths recorded for any of them, either.”

  Twelve had disappeared in the last thirty days. “And the week just before Davidov began the blockade?”

  He made another inquiry, and pulled up a different figure. “Two thousand, six hundred and twelve residents. Ninety-four visitors.” He looked up at me. “There have been no deaths recorded for the missing, or anyone on the colony over the past year.”

  It was too large a number to be an accounting error. “Duncan, two hundred and sixteen people do not simply disappear. If they’re not dead, they must have escaped. But how are they getting off the planet?”

  “Drefan told me that no one has left Trellus since Alek began the blockade,” Reever said. “It is possible that they are dead and the records are incomplete. “

  “Almost ten percent of the population is gone,” I pointed out. “If they died of natural causes or misadventure, that would mean this colony’s mortality rate is five times greater than any other settled world in this quadrant.” I thought for a moment. “Who is responsible for the census?”

  “It is compiled by drone monitor,” my husband said. “Someone may have tampered with the program to conceal the true status of the missing.”

  “Perhaps. But what if they are really gone, and no one knows about it but the drone monitors? If they can’t leave, and there are no bodies, where could they be?” Pain spiked through my head, sudden and sharp, and I pressed my fingers to my temples as images began boiling in my mind. “That slave depot. Catopsa. Something like this happened there.”

  “Jarn.” Reever drew me away from the console. “It is better that you not try to remember it.”

  “The memories are yours, not mine,” I reminded him, grimacing as the pain spiked. “The guards. Hsktskt . . .” I could not create order out of the chaotic images. My forearm started to feel peculiar, almost as if it were hot. “Why does it hurt to remember that? I was not there.”

  “Cherijo was.” He put his arms around me and pulled me against his rigid frame. “I should not have inflicted you with a past you never lived.”

  I pressed my cheek against his shoulder. “Tell me what happened on Catopsa. What did the guards do with the missing slaves? All I remember are angry centurons, heat, and humanoid body parts. And my arm hurts.”

  “The body parts were all we were able to recover, “ Reever said. “Some of the guards were using the missing slaves as food.” He waited before he added, “Cherijo was branded with a slave identification code. It kept healing over, so the Hsktskt kept branding her.” He touched my forearm where I felt the pain. “Here.”

  “It didn’t happen to me.” I pushed the hurtful memories away. “Do you think the colonists are practicing cannibalism?”

  Reever shrugged. “It would not be the first time an isolated group of starving individuals resorted to such desperate measures.”

  I thought of the stew Drefan had served us, and my stomach clenched as I reached for my scanner and passed it over the front of me. My stomach contents showed on the display as partially digested synpro. “If they are, they didn’t feed anyone to us
tonight.”

  “I do not see that kind of desperation, and Alek claimed that he was making regular supply drops.” Reever tipped my chin and looked into my eyes. “You are exhausted. Come and rest with me. We will have time in the morning to inquire about those who are missing.”

  I recalled the ultimatum Davidov had delivered after Moonfire had crashed. We had only thirty days to find and kill the Odnallak.

  Time was not our ally.

  Despite the strange sleeping platform and unfamiliar surroundings, I fell asleep quickly, safe in Reever’s arms. I did not wake until I felt his warmth moving away from me, replaced by cold alloy, fiery breath, and an angry voice.

  They ordered us not to kill you, but said we could use you as often as we wished.

  The alien male from my dream had returned. This time I felt more aware of my body, and how it had been manacled and chained. My limbs felt heavy and dull, and my mind clouded, as if I had been drugged.

  The cabin in which we were slowly revolved around us, items tumbling out of containers, equipment smashing against the interior walls.

  My brother has no taste for your kind. The claws that had been choking me only a few moments before caressedmy cheek. But I wondered. I wondered how you might be.

  I wanted to look through the view port and see how close we were to the surface. Oforon, there is still time to send a distress signal.

  I’ve tried. No one will respond. The Toskald are blocking all transmissions. Black eyes squeezed shut as he held on to my chains, the only thing keeping him and me from tumbling about the cabin. The League would not come even if they received it. We were always expendable, my brother and I.

  The wind buffeting the transport began to howl outside the hull, a petulant child frustrated with a toy it could not break. My husband and daughter care about me.

  You think they still search for you? Oforon uttered a sound of sour amusement. You’re a fool. They believed Shropana’s ruse, just as everyone else did. They think you long dead.

  I had felt dead, until this moment. I wasn’t Jorenian, but at last I understood why they left behind messages for their kin. I couldn’t go into the embrace of the stars without speaking one last time to the ones I loved.

  Please, I begged. Release me. Let me send one signal. Only one, I promise. I must say good-bye to my family.

  No. His grip on the chains tightened as the ship spun faster. If the signal is intercepted by others, they will relay it to Shropana in hopes of collecting the reward for you. He will use it as an excuse to invalidate our contract. My family will get nothing.

  I was so cold I couldn’t feel my hands or feet, and the darkness crowded in around me, swallowing Oforon and the spinning ship. Something else lay waiting in the shadows, something predatory, watching me with eyes afire.

  Wait. I’m sorry. Don’t leave me, Oforon. I don’t want to die alone.

  You’re not alone. The thing in the shadows inched closer. I’m here. I’m like you. Left for dead. Alone.

  “Jarn.”

  Reever’s voice pulled me out of the dream so suddenly that I sat up with a jerk and a cry.

  “I am here.” He pulled me into his arms. “You were calling out in your sleep.”

  I rubbed my eyes and nestled against him. “I was having a nightmare.” As the distressing images from the dream faded away, my heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I have been up for some time.” He pulled back, putting space between us. “Who is Oforon?”

  To hear the name said aloud made fear and sweat crawl all over on my skin. I forced myself to think calmly. “It is the name of the male in my dream. We were on a ship together. I think I was his prisoner.” I grimaced to hear myself speaking as if it had been real. “It was only a bad dream.”

  “Perhaps.” Reever watched me closely. “Tell me what you remember about the male from the dream, and where you were.”

  “He was not Terran. Hair covered his face.” I gestured over my own. “I was in chains and very cold. The ship we were on was spinning, out of control.” I grimaced as pain lanced through my thoughts. “You should have warned me how much your memories of Cherijo would hurt my head.”

  “I did not give you that memory,” Reever said quietly. “I have never heard this until now.” He hesitated before adding, “It must have happened when they were transporting you to Akkabarr. The ship you were on crashed on the surface.”

  “That can’t be,” I said. “You were not with her then. How could I recall something you did not . . . ?” A flood of realization and anguish silenced me.

  The dream, not a dream but a memory. One of Cherijo’s.

  Reever cupped my face between his hands. “Don’t be afraid, beloved. Whatever comes back to you, it will not change who you are. Cherijo died on Akkabarr.”

  “As you say, Husband.” I thrust myself away from him and grabbed my garments. “I will make a meal for us. I wish we were at Mercy House. She has idleberry tea.”

  I dressed and went out to the food prep unit, where I dialed up tea. I knew Reever wanted to talk about what had happened, but I had had enough of Cherijo and the past for one morning.

  The door panel chimed, and Reever rose and went to answer it. Drefan’s Chakacat came in with a tray of bread that had been twisted into fancy shapes.

  “Drefan sends these with his compliments.” It set the bread down on the table. “After you have had your meal, the games master requests that Reever join him in the drone bay.”

  I exchanged a look with my husband. “For what purpose?”

  “Yesterday your husband observed that Tya’s drednoc opponent lacked proper arena programming, “ the Chakacat said. “Drefan wishes to review the current battle algorithms with your husband and learn how they can be improved.”

  Reever nodded. “I will look at them.”

  I felt impatient. “Maybe we should charge him a consultation fee.”

  Keel remained behind after Reever left. At first I thought it meant to clear up the remnants of our meal, as it had the night before, until it spoke. “Doctor, Drefan wishes me to ask if you will look at some remains that were found outside the dome last night.”

  “You recovered a body?”

  “Not exactly.” Keel coughed, and for a moment looked as if it might regurgitate something. “The drone found only some skin.”

  It could be from another victim of the Tingalean, or a trace of one of the missing colonists. All I could do with tissue was run some DNA and pathogenic scans, if Drefan had the proper equipment for the tests, but at least that would be a start. “What sort of skin? How much did it find?”

  Keel’s whiskers twitched. “From the scales, it appearsto be Tingalean. From the amount we recovered, I think it must be all of its skin.”

  My appetite faded. “Someone skinned it? That would be fatal. Where is the rest of the body?”

  “I cannot say.” Keel avoided my gaze. “I think that is what Drefan wishes to learn. If you can tell that from the condition of what remains, that is.”

  I retrieved my medical case. “Take me to it.”

  Keel led me through the labyrinth of corridors to an area guarded by several drones like those that had pursued Reever yesterday. Both the Chakacat and I were scanned before we were permitted access to the room where the skin had been taken.

  “Does Drefan believe someone will steal the remains? “ I asked as we walked into a large, well-equipped laboratory.

  “No.” Keel did not expand on that reply, but brought me to a low-temperature storage unit. Inside sat a large sealed disposal container with a clear plas lid.

  I peered in and studied the mound of derma, which was blackened and partially liquefied. I thought it might have been burned, until I scanned the container. “This can’t belong to the Tingalean that attacked me yesterday. The decomposition is too far advanced. Unless . . .” I glanced over my shoulder. “Can you quarantine this room?”

  “Drefan had a containment
generator installed last night.” Keel pointed to one of the consoles. “The center work table can be isolated within an energy shroud.”

  I lifted the container, which weighed more than I expected. “After I move this over there, initialize the field.”

  The Chakacat did as I asked. Once the bioelectric curtain buzzed into place around me, preventing any microorganisms from entering or leaving the space, I pulled on a mask and gloves and opened the container. Sickening odor instantly filled the contained area.

  “Next time, genius,” I muttered to myself, blinking away reflex tears, “wear a breather.”

  I slowly tipped the container over to place the contents on the table. Despite my care, the derma slid out and landed with a plop, spattering the front of my garments with greenish black fluid. I first scanned for cellular defects, but found no evidence of disease or contagion. I took a probe from my case and began lifting and smoothing out the crumpled skin.

  “The derma looks to be intact.” I walked around the table to work on the other side.

  “Does that have some significance?” Keel asked.

  “It means that it was not removed from the victim in sections, but all at once.” I measured the hide’s thickness and carefully rolled it over and flattened it to inspect the underside. “I cannot find any blade, pulse, sonic, or other weapon marks to indicate precisely what was used for the removal.”

  “Could a form of radiation have done this?”

  “Doubtful. The skin would be burned, and it would slough off the victim in flakes and peels.” I pulled down an emitter arm and peered closely at the holes. “I cannot see any puckers or stretch marks. It is not inside out. It was not fieldstripped.”

  Keel came to stand by the curtain. “How am I to define ‘fieldstripped’ to Drefan?”

  “Watch.” I turned and held up one of my hands. “Imagine my glove is derma, my hand the body it covers, and the opening at my wrist a mouth or eye.” I took hold of the edge of my glove and peeled it backward, removing it from my hand until it hung, inside out, from my other fingers. “Large carcasses with thicker skin require more effort, of course.”

  Keel gave me a strange look. “That is all it takes to skin a body?”