Plague of Memory Read online

  I felt a quick wave of relief and stepped away from the Omorr. “We should speak to the captain about it. I will take you to see him.”

  “This is not over,” the Omorr called after me.

  Once we were outside Medical, ChoVa said, “I regret my earlier, hasty departure. It was wrong to leave you without warning in the middle of the procedure. What did that single-legged one mean by ‘this is not over’?”

  “The Senior Healer has been attempting to recover my former self’s memories.” I sighed. “Now he believes I am hiding them, or suppressing them.”

  “His assumption is understandable,” she said. “Irrational and unproductive emotions often compel you warm-bloods into paranoia.”

  “Indeed.” I glanced at her. “You have cold blood. What is your excuse?”

  She tasted my air, and then exhaled heavily. “Perhaps I suffer from close proximity to your kind.”

  My mouth curled. “We are a terrible influence, I am told.”

  As we walked I told her about what little Squilyp and I had discovered from the autopsy, and then paused outside the lift entry.

  “ChoVa, if I am to find a treatment for this contagion, I need a great deal more information about your people, their prehistory, and especially this rogur and the other extinct creatures you mentioned.” Even my uttering the word provoked an instant physical response from the Hsktskt female. She tensed, her eyelids flared wide, and the muscles around her jaw twitched. “I know I am offending you. I understand that certain taboos are considered necessary to reinforce the framework of a society. But I ask that you set these things aside and help me, before there is no society left.”

  “If I can, I will,” she said slowly. “It will be difficult. There is nothing I know about the creatures of the past, not even what they were known as. Only the rogur is mentioned by name in some old stories; legends told by the eldest to frighten the youngest among us. I cannot even guarantee they are based on the truth.”

  “Surely you have some history preserved of these creatures? Data, written records?” She shook her head. “Specimens? Fossils? Anything?“

  “Nothing,” ChoVa stated flatly. “Hatred for these creatures was so complete that when my ancestors exterminated them, they removed every trace of them from our world. No one was permitted to speak of the old ones or what they did. Documents that contained drawings and writings about them were burned. Eventually all the people who had actually seen the creatures died, and their children were left with only a few stories. This is how it has been passed down through the bloodlines for many generations. A collection of myths that make no sense.”

  “Then that is where we must begin.” I felt uneasy, for I knew how powerful legends could be. I had used the legend of the vral to violate the taboo against women healing men—and that had fooled whole armies. “Tell me about the rogur.”

  TEN

  “It is possible that these prehistoric creatures preyed on the ancient Hsktskt in such a way as to inspire ChoVa’s legends,” I said to Reever the next day as we prepared for TssVar’s visit to the Sunlace, “but nothing like this rogur she described could have existed.”

  “Why not?” my husband asked. “The universe is large, and its inhabitants diverse.”

  “No living thing could grow large enough to swallow a continent, or assume the form of all other living things at will, or take years to digest its victims while keeping them alive by feeding them bits of each other.”

  “There is one, very ancient, amoebic life-form on a free-trader world in the N-jui system that was reported to have destroyed a large space vessel by enveloping and absorbing it,” my husband said as he helped me into the formal uniform jacket I was to wear at the reception in launch bay. “Stories of another shape-shifting species have circulated among the mercenaries for many decades. I know of three intelligent species who often swallow their prey whole. One of them can—”

  I grimaced and stopped fastening my jacket. “I do not want to know those details, I thank you.” I noticed he was not wearing his usual black garments, but had put on a modified version of a crew member’s blue-and-silver uniform. “Do you wear the Torin’s colors now?”

  He gave his tunic a look of mild distaste. “Only for this visit.”

  Marel had gone to play with Fasala, so I had nothing more to do until it was time to greet TssVar. I went to the database console and checked the different inquiries I had made based on the description of the rogur from ChoVa’s stories. “All the ship’s machines can tell me is that the creature is likely mythic. I already know that.”

  “Myths are usually grounded in some fact,” my husband said as he came and switched off the console. “I never heard TssVar or any Hsktskt speak of this creature, but what ChoVa told you sounds like something her kind would go to great pains to conceal.”

  “Why?”

  “The Hsktskt have no natural enemy on Vtaga or anywhere else.” He straightened the front of my jacket as if I were Marel. “They fear nothing. Off-world, they conduct themselves as if the galaxy and all its worlds and beings belonged to them by right of evolutionary superiority.”

  “So if the rogur did exist, and did do some of these terrible things mentioned in these stories …” I tried to follow his logic, but all I knew were the ways of the Iisleg. “The Hsktskt would lose face?”

  “It would reduce them to an equal standing with us.” Reever ran his hand over my hair and down the length of it. “The Hsktskt see humanoids as irrational, fearful beings, unable to properly defend themselves or their territory. Raiding humanoid colonies, and capturing and selling our kind as slaves for centuries, have not improved their opinion. You look beautiful today, Jarn.”

  I smiled. I had put some effort into making myself presentable in the ensleg fashion. “I had hoped my appearance would please you.”

  “Did you please him as well?” he asked, winding my hair around his hand in an idle fashion.

  “Him?”

  He bent his head and brushed his mouth next to but not over mine. “Teulon.”

  I frowned. “The Raktar did not care about my appearance, as long as I wore the vral mask around the rebel men. Why?”

  “I was only curious.” Reever straightened and made a show of checking the time display on the console. “We should go.”

  We walked into the launch bay, where Xonea and other important men from around the ship had assembled to receive TssVar. None of them looked particularly pleased, but I saw no show of anger or hostility, and no one’s claws had emerged. The Senior Healer was present, but I did not see ChoVa.

  Reever gestured for me to go stand with Squilyp and the assembled medical staff, and then went to speak to Xonea. Feeling troubled again, I took my place at Squilyp’s right side. Across from us I saw the giant walking-and-talking feline called Alunthri. Its ears flicked as it noticed my gaze, but it turned almost immediately to look out at the stars.

  The jlorra on Akkabarr had tolerated me, and a few times had shown me affection. I had grown accustomed to sharing our quarters with the small beasts, although I felt sure I would never completely trust them. What was I to do about this creature, who claimed Cherijo as a friend?

  “I should be in Medical,” the Senior Healer said, distracting my thoughts. A Hsktskt scout ship passed through the buffer barrier and landed on the transport pad. He looked uncomfortable in his formal tunic, and the faint bruise of sleeplessness darkened the flesh around his eyes. “This is nothing but a farce.”

  “Showing proper respect invites the same,” I murmured as I watched Reever and the captain move to greet SubAkade TssVar as he walked down the scout’s ramp. “Where is ChoVa?”

  “She was showing respect for our efforts to preserve the peace and save her species by rescanning the body we autopsied.” Squilyp’s gildrells curled and uncurled in an agitated fashion. “Does she really think we would botch the procedure?”

  “I cannot say what she thinks. I am not Reever.” I noted the number of guards TssVar had
brought with him, and how careful Xonea and Reever were to inspect the weapons they carried. I also saw a Hsktskt male beside TssVar who seemed quite small—only a few inches taller than me—and stood looking around with wide eyes. I heard the Omorr release an impatient sound, and turned to him. “Aside from ChoVa’s general lack of respect, what else has become lodged in your throat?”

  It took a moment for him to comprehend the lisleg phrase. “My mate had a restless night,” he said, his voice lower and tighter now. “Her delivery time draws near.”

  His confession astonished me. “Why would that bother you?” The Iisleg valued sons who could hunt, protect the tribe, and carry their name and blood, so our males always looked forward to birthing times to finally know the sex of the child.

  “Garphawayn has never before delivered a child,” he snapped. “Something could go wrong.” He shifted restlessly, rocking back and forth on the edges of his broad foot. “I suppose those barbarians on that ice world made their women drop their newborn out on the ice.”

  “Only if the mother were cast out to die while she was in labor,” I said blandly. His visible outrage made me add, “It is a pity you are not Iisleg. Our males do not attend birthings, and they only acknowledge male children they know they have sired. New mothers and female children are always ignored.”

  Squilyp snorted. “Those males should be whipped, preferably by their own women.” At a discreet signal from Xonea, he stopped rocking. “The captain wishes us to greet the beast.”

  I wondered what he would do if I used my elbow on his rib cage. “Stop calling them beasts.”

  TssVar did not wait for Squilyp to finish his formal greeting, but stepped forward and held his clawed hands out in a palm-up, humanoid gesture. “The Hanar sends his regrets that your life was endangered, and asks that you return to Vtaga to continue your efforts to cure the plague. I am to make whatever restitution you require in order to facilitate this.”

  “I require nothing, as no harm was done,” I said, glancing at the young male Hsktskt. “My husband and the captain will wish to decide if and when I return. You should make your negotiations with them.”

  “We will need more security for Cherijo, Sub-Akade,” Xonea stated.

  Reever took a more direct approach. “What have you done about preventing another attack by these outlaws?”

  “We have moved a battalion to occupy the capital. The renegades will not breach our defenses again so easily,” TssVar said. “As for security, the Hanar is sending a detachment of Palace Guards to escort the healer upon her return. They have sworn to sacrifice themselves before they allow her to be harmed or killed.”

  Xonea looked at Reever, who appeared to be in deep thought.

  “I want five arena guards added to the detachment,” my husband said at last. “They are faster than the Hanar’s men.”

  “Done.” TssVar turned tome. “The Hanar would know if you have made any progress in determining the cause of and a cure for the plague.”

  “We should discuss the results of the autopsy ChoVa and I performed.” I smiled at the curious expression on the young male’s face. “Would you tell me the name of this one, please?”

  TssVar’s primary eyelids lowered, and his tongue flickered for a moment before he answered me. “This is the youngest of my line, CaurVar.” He hissed something wordless at his son, who stepped forward and dropped his head back for a moment to reveal the pale green-and-white scales covering the front of his throat.

  Reever had told me throat-baring was an acknowledgment of respect as well as a gesture of submission among the Hsktskt. As the warmblooded were considered inferior species, to be shown such was a great compliment.

  “You are welcome here, CaurVar,” I said.

  “You are my sister’s namesake,” the young male said. “My mother often claims that ChoVa might have become a great military commander, like my sire, if not for your designation over her life.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Is this an undesirable thing?”

  He gave his sire a sly look and flashed some very adult-looking rows of jagged teeth. “If you dislike the military as much as my mother does, no.”

  His voice had not yet thickened and deepened like that of an adult male, but had a far more pleasant tone, mellow like the sound of an Iisleg child’s wind trumpet. His scales appeared thinner and smaller than TssVar’s, and the color pattern was much more spotted with white and yellow. Most surprising was the fact that his claws had been cut back and were blunted.

  TssVar noticed my interest. “It is common practice now among our females to cull the young ones of their claws. They believe it somehow prevents them from contracting the plague.”

  It would also prevent them from harming themselves, I thought, for I had seen several young Hsktskt at the medical facility. “CaurVar, have you ever seen the inside of a ship like this one?”

  He shook his head and turned at once to speak to his sire. “Do we own this vessel, Father?”

  TssVar uttered a sharp sound. “No, kasso, these people are here as our … allies.”

  “Warm-blooded allies?” CaurVar’s brow furrowed. “Does mother know about this?”

  Xonea kept his expression neutral, but I saw a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. “I would be pleased to show your son around the ship while you meet with the medical staff,” he said to TssVar.

  One of the guards stepped forward and hissed something too low for our wristcoms to translate, but TssVar only made a terse gesture, and the male returned to his place.

  “I will permit this.” Now the giant Hsktskt looked almost uncomfortable. “My youngest is very curious. He will ask a great many questions.”

  “Then it is well that I possess many answers.” The captain gestured toward the corridor, and in his eagerness CaurVar almost ran to the door panel.

  Squilyp cleared his throat. “We may make use of the launch bay scheduling room for the medical briefing,” he suggested. “I can access the forensic database from the console there.”

  “You are the Senior Healer of this ship, are you not?” TssVar asked the Qmorr. When he nodded, the Hsktskt’s eyes shifted to me. “An interesting choice.”

  We adjourned to a large area connected to the launch bay, where Squilyp reviewed the results of the autopsy we had performed on the plague victim, blaming cryopreservation efforts as the cause of death and making a formal recommendation that the Hsktskt find alternative means with which to control the infected patients’ symptoms.

  “You cannot continue to freeze them,” Squilyp said as he showed TssVar and his entourage the cellular-level damage inflicted by the cold. “Your daughter tells us that treatment with synthesized neuroparalyzer proves to be equally toxic to your species. I suggest you explore new methods of physical restraint until treatment for symptoms or a cure can be discovered.”

  TssVar turned to me. “What of a cure? Have you made any progress, Healer Torin?”

  “We learned from the autopsy that one of the gland clusters from the victim’s brain was saturated with tohykul,” I told him. “ChoVa indicated that this enzyme is only present in any significant quantity in newborn Hsktskt, but the victim was a mature male. This is the first physical anomaly we have found among the infected.”

  “One infected male,” TssVar corrected.

  I nodded. “That is why we must return to the surface and conduct tests on the other quarantined Hsktskt to learn if they, too, have the same quantity of tohykul in their gland clusters, as—”

  A nurse walked abruptly into the room. “Your pardon, Senior Healer, but you are needed in Medical Bay.”

  Squilyp frowned. “I will report as soon as we are finished here.”

  “It is your mate, Senior Healer,” the nurse said, making an expressive gesture. “She has gone into labor and is calling for you.”

  As soon as he heard “labor” the Omorr jumped up and hopped across the room. “Cherijo.”

  “Excuse me, SubAade,” I said to TssVar, “it is his f
irst child.” I didn’t wait for a response but hurried out after Squilyp.

  I had never seen the Omorr move as quickly as he did through the corridors. I barely had time to catch up and leap into the lift with him before he took it to Medical Bay’s level.

  “She delivers too early,” Squilyp muttered as he bounced around the lift compartment. “There will be complications. Why did I not send her back to Omorr? Perhaps we can stop the contractions. It is too early. I have killed her.”

  I kept myself flattened against the back of the compartment to avoid his big foot and his gildrells, which snapped and snarled around his face like short whips. “You said females of your species deliver each in their own time. The nurse said nothing about complications, or if she were dead.”

  He stopped and glared at me. “You are not helping.”

  “Think of how you would feel if you received this message here and she were on Omorr,” I pointed out.

  “I cannot think.” The lift stopped, and he hovered impatiently until it opened. “Hurry.”

  We hurried. So much so that the Omorr nearly ran over two nurses and a supply cart on his way into Medical, which appeared as if someone had raided it and strewn the contents of every cabinet on the deck. There Donarea, the chief obstetrics resident, was waiting outside a treatment room and peering anxiously through an observation panel.

  “Why are you not in there with her?” Squilyp shouted as soon as he saw her.

  “Your pardon, Senior Healer, but the healer said I should wait outside until she summoned me.” Donarea had several fresh, thin lacerations on her face.

  “The healer? What healer? There are only Cherijo and I and—” He choked on his words. “Not the Hsktskt. You did not give my mate to the Hsktskt. Tell me you did not.”

  Donarea turned to me. “The Lady Maftuda presented active labor and extreme distress when she arrived. She became violent when told her mate was not here and that I have never delivered an Omorr—”