Shockball Read online

  “Sure. I can just skip the part about how I killed Kao, and all the Torins who died in mercenary attacks on the Sunlace, and the League prisoners who fought the Hsktskt after I turned their ships over to the Faction.” And then there was the baby. “Piece of cake.”

  “The streak in your hair looks a little wider.” He traced the silver slash that started just above my right temple with his finger. “You have been devoting too many hours in Medical.”

  “You won’t let me learn how to calibrate the engines.” If I sat there much longer, I was going to melt all over the chair. I got up. “We’ve arrived at Te Abanor.”

  “I know.”

  He always knew. Reever took the job of running the Perpetua very seriously. I was lucky if I remembered what shift it was. “Where are we heading once we’ve finished this mission?”

  “We will find a new world to settle on. A place where we can raise our children and live without fear.”

  Considering how widespread the League and Hsktskt Faction territories were, that wasn’t going to be soon. Or easy. I’d avoid thinking about the other problems for now. One migraine at a time. “This Eden is located where? On the other side of the universe?”

  “We will not have to travel that far.” Duncan picked me up and carried me back to the platform. Like Kao, he enjoyed carrying me around. It must be a guy thing. “You need to get some rest.”

  “We were going to fight over names tonight, remember?”

  He stretched out beside me and held me against him. “You did not like the last suggestions I made.”

  I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek. “You suggested Ggddkktt or J-byn.” I shuddered. “Why can’t you pick out something with vowels in it?”

  “Very well, what do you think of”—he made a low, whistling sound—”for a female, or”—he made something that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed belch—”for a male?”

  “I liked Ggddkktt and J-byn better. And I hate them.” I thought about the list of baby names I’d pulled from the computer earlier. “How about Dian-the? Or Daniel?”

  “Dian-tha means filthy water in Habarroo. Daniel is a command to jump high in the air while screaming on Andorrii.”

  I propped myself up with one arm. “Do they really mean that, or are you just making that up?”

  “I will access the linguistic database, if you like.”

  “Hmmm.” I eyed him. “What does ‘Cherijo’ mean?”

  “It means nothing in any of the languages I know. I think that is why I was initially drawn to you.”

  My name came from an acronym for Comprehensive Human Enhancement Research I.D. “J” Organism—the title of the experiment that had resulted in my creation. However, Reever knew a lot of languages. I wondered if he was telling me the truth, or Cherijo meant something like “pond scum” in Try-tinorn.

  “How about Duncan? What does that mean?”

  “In Terran Gaelic, it means dark warrior. In Svgan, burning spear. In Loracian, ice crystal. In—”

  “Okay, okay.” I ran my fingers through his shaggy blond hair. “Dark warrior, huh?”

  “My coloring was not a consideration at the time my parents named me.” He stroked the small of my back. “Have you confirmed the gender of our child yet?”

  He knew I’d been having tests, but I’d passed them off as the usual prenatal exams. “No. I don’t want to know. That’s like opening Christmas presents in July.” I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe now was a good time. “Duncan?”

  He was rubbing my stomach again. “Hmmmm?”

  “I need you to know, I …”

  “Look.” He pressed my hand under his. “Can you feel the curve there? The child is growing.”

  There would never be a good time.

  I lifted my head as something crawled over my foot. Saved by Reever’s ambulatory pet mold. “I really wish you’d keep your Lok-Teel out of the bedroom.”

  He reached down and gently removed the undulating blob from my leg, then set it on the deck. He’d brought a couple of them from the slave depot on Catopsa, where he’d used their ability to take on any form to conceal his features. The moving mold had since happily adapted to life on board the ship, reproduced and were now all over the place. The Lok-Teel oozed off to clean something else, while Reever brushed my hair back from my face.

  “Better?”

  “Yes.” He was always fooling with my hair. “I have an idea. I’ll name the baby if it’s a boy, and you name it if it’s a girl. You have to use vowels and consonants.”

  “I agree. What is your choice?”

  “Michael. Yours?” He told me, and I smiled. “Hey, that’s not bad. I sort of like it.”

  “Go to sleep now, Cherijo.”

  I slept, but the nightmares returned. This time I didn’t dream of losing Reever, but of a disaster so ominous that it destroyed everything I loved.

  “I want you to report over here before you go on this sojourn,” Squilyp said.

  My former surgical resident, now a full-fledged doctor and currently the Senior Healer in charge of Medical on board the Sunlace, looked very annoyed. Squilyp was an Omorr, so he did that very well.

  “I’m busy.”

  The white, meter-long gildrells around his oral membrane went into icicle-mode. They made him look like he was wearing a starched beard. “You’re being irresponsible.”

  “Oh, like you’d know.”

  “Doctor.”

  Okay, so he was mad. He’d get over it. “This trip will only take a few hours. We can run the final series when I get back.”

  He thumped down the chart he’d been holding in the spade-shaped membranes that served as his hands. “Shall I consult with Captain Reever for his opinion on this matter?”

  Now I got mad. “You say one word about this to him, and I’ll tie a big knot in your face.”

  He sighed. “Cherijo, I know you are avoiding a decision, but you cannot continue to conceal this from your mate. He has the right to know what is happening, and what you propose to do about it.”

  “Yeah, I know. I know.” I felt the beginnings of a tension headache start tapping inside my temples. “Just, give me a couple more days, okay? When I’m done with this sojourn, I’ll have Reever bring me directly up to the Sunlace. Then you can run as many tests as you like.” And I could finally figure out what to do, and how to tell Duncan.

  “I don’t know why I argue with you,” he said. “I always lose.”

  “You’re nothing but a big softie.” He was anything but. I smiled. “Thanks, Squid Lips.”

  With an impatient gesture, he ended the signal.

  I sat back in my chair, and read over the chart in my hands again. Trace bilirubin levels—leftovers from blood cell destruction—appeared in the latest sample. The antibodies had crossed the breach and were attacking.

  “Cherijo?”

  Alunthri appeared in the doorway. Like me, the feline Chakacat had been condemned as a nonsentient life form—in its case, from birth. We’d met on K-2, where its owner had subsequently died from the Core plague. I’d freed Alunthri from domestic slavery, and Reever had done the same when the Chakacat had tried to immigrate to another world run by slavers. It was the gentlest creature I’d ever known.

  “Hey, pal.” I cleared the console screen. “Haven’t seen you around lately.”

  “My studies keep me preoccupied.” It smiled, baring glittering small fangs. Alunthri was obsessed with all forms of art, and recently had been working on some kind of multispecies thesis. “You are going on the sojourn to Te Abanor?”

  “Can’t get out of it.” Couldn’t wait to go was more like it, but I wasn’t going to dump my problems on the Chakacat.

  “I wish I could join you, but I am still working on data I collected from the last world we visited.” It cocked its bullet-shaped head to one side, making light shimmer across its silvery pelt. “Would you mind recording any examples of cultural self-expression for me?”

  “No problem.” It took a m
inute before I realized it was waiting and added, “Vid and audio okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Its colorless eyes met mine, and its pointed ears flickered. “Cherijo, is everything well? You seem rather preoccupied yourself.”

  “Just thinking about the sojourn,” I lied.

  Alunthri seemed to accept that answer, for it thanked me again, and then departed.

  I hadn’t been thinking about the sojourn. I was thinking about my husband. I had two, maybe three days at the most before we had to act. That meant I had to tell Duncan today. Not exactly something we could chat about on the way down to the planet.

  Later. I loved that word. I’ll do it later. I grabbed my pack and headed for the launch bay.

  The sojourn to Te Abanor required us to take one of the Perpetua‘s shuttles down. Reever, who unlike me was perfectly at ease with any sort of tech, manned the helm himself.

  I strapped myself in behind him and looked over his shoulder. “Are we there yet?”

  “No.” He gave me a bland look. “Would you prefer to pilot the mission?”

  “Please. I’d like to get there in one piece.” Back during my time as Senior Healer on board the Sunlace, I’d barely passed the mandatory pilot training all crew members were required to take. I was good with living things, medical tech, prep units, and that was about it. “How’s the atmosphere look?”

  “We shouldn’t encounter much turbulence. How is your stomach?”

  “Okay, for now.” I had a container stowed under my seat, in case that changed.

  The flight took much less time than I’d thought, and as Reever predicted, there were only a few bumps along the way. Te Abanor’s stratus shroud parted to reveal a gray-and-black world that looked inhospitable from above. Not a green speck of vegetation or geometric outline of civilization was visible.

  “There, you see?” One of the former Catopsan slaves pointed out the darker mottled areas along the equatorial regions where the bulk of the Meridae civilization dwelled. “That is the epicenter of my home throng.”

  I grinned. It might have been ugly, but home was home. “I bet your family will be happy to see you.”

  “They will fill the skies,” the Meridae male said. He had a homely face that was rather endearing. “I should warn you, Doctor, our atmosphere has a lower oxygen content than you humanoids are accustomed to.”

  I imagined everyone stepping off the shuttle and instantly turning as blue as a Jorenian. “Exactly how low?”

  “It will be breathable, of course, but you may wish to curtail your movements.”

  My Saksonan resident’s nubbly derma started swelling. “Do we have breathers on board the shuttle?”

  “Calm down, Vlaav,” I said. “If the air’s too thin, we can always hop back on the shuttle.”

  “You are always so confident of success,” he said, sounding peeved.

  I repeated what had been hammered into my head through four years of medtech. “We’re surgeons. Success is the only acceptable alternative.” I caught his pout and sighed. “Will you stop worrying about everything? We escaped the League. We beat the Hsktskt. We can handle a little oxygen-poor air.”

  Vlaav mumbled something about spare ventilators and started rummaging through his medevac case.

  Reever signaled Planetary Transport as we landed a few minutes later. I couldn’t help but notice how even more depressing Te Abanor was when we set down. Gray. Black. Lots of uninterrupted rock. That was it.

  Reever, Vlaav, and I gathered our equipment, then waited until Te Abanor’s automated transport monitor gave us final clearance to disembark. When the hull doors parted, I noticed the change in the air at once.

  What air? my lungs argued. I fought to keep from hyperventilating. Had to be a good example for my nervous student cutter.

  Te Abanor’s Transport Center seemed empty, except for some gliding forms circling overhead. I guessed they were the natives when they spiraled down and began landing in front of our group.

  This particular brand of Meridae were naked, drab colored, with rounded heads covered by long, wrinkled skin lappets. Out of hidden snouts, long extensible tongues covered with spiny papillae flicked out.

  “Why do they look different?” I asked Reever.

  “That is a female.”

  I knew at once I would not be sharing the traditional Jorenian kiss of welcome with any Meridae. There are reasons I am a terrible diplomat. Papillaed tongues is one of them.

  More Meridae arrived and landed. A distinct ammoniac odor emanated from their bodies, which were studded with oval bristle clusters. I saw why when one began grooming its fur.

  Built-in hairbrushes. I could use something like that.

  What impressed me the most was the natives’ dorsal wing. While they stood on the ground, they held the jointed flap folded against their spines. Fully extended in the air, the wing stretched over ten feet long, and worked like a sail. Evidently the low gravity and air currents gave them lift, for once they were up, all the Meridae did was tack to or against the wind. It was obvious they loved it, too. Our passengers were already tearing off their borrowed tunics and taking off.

  Reever offered greetings in a high-pitched shrieking language that made me cringe until my vocollar adjusted to the portable database, dampened the sound, and began to translate.

  “We greet you, honored Meridae,” my husband said. “Duncan Reever, Captain of the Perpetua.”

  One batlike creature screeched back at Reever. “Welcome. The Meridae offer thanks for the safe return of our kinsmen.”

  After an exchange of a few more pleasantries, the Meridae asked if we would care to visit the community’s epicenter. Reever accepted the offer, which oddly surprised the envoy.

  “Do you think this is a good idea?” I asked him.

  “They are not members of the League,” Reever said. “Their leaders will need information about the war.”

  We were escorted by the Meridae to the epicenter, if you could call it that. Several more landed and at some unseen signal approached each of us. Approached as in hopped over and extended these claw-things toward us.

  “Uh, honey?” I said to Reever with a cheerful smile as one of the Meridae headed for me. “What are they doing? Exactly?”

  “They’re going to fly us to the epicenter,” he replied. “Don’t resist, you’ll insult them. He won’t hurt you.”

  I looked at my escort. Fly me to the epicenter. Not eat me.

  The Meridae’s hind appendages had small curved talons—the claw-things—which he gently slid under my arms. I experienced a slight jolt as he jumped up, and spread his wing.

  Suddenly I was flying. It wasn’t so bad after all.

  My escort seemed unaffected by my weight. I saw the other natives had no problem carrying Reever and Vlaav, who were much larger and heavier than me. The Meridae were exceptionally strong, graceful, and hopefully, not prone to clumsiness.

  We soon arrived at a group of bizarre, treelike structures that grew from wide, thick bases to soar hundreds of feet upward. Te Abanor’s warm orange sun gleamed dully over the grayish-brown, lengthy branches. They weren’t trees, judging by the lack of vegetation, and the sculpted appearance of the bark indicated they were Meridae-made. But from what? Soil?

  The natives gently set down our team around the base of one of the biggest structures, where the ammoniac smell was much stronger. I performed a discreet enviroscan.

  “Let me know if anyone feels dizzy,” I told the others in a low voice. The fumes were chemically similar to ammonia, but not as dangerous. I pressed a hand against my abdomen and swallowed hard. Throwing up would make a lousy first impression.

  The ground beneath us was flat and consisted of dense, nonporous rock. The aviaries couldn’t be made of soil; there was no soil.

  Reever touched my shoulder, startling me. “Look.”

  I followed his gaze up. Above us, a huge group of the Meridae were descending gracefully from the upper portion of the tree-structures. They flew unli
ke anything I’d ever seen on Terra—darting, floating, playfully weaving patterns with their bodies. In a moment we were surrounded by the winged creatures.

  One wrinkle-faced female landed close to me, and I saw she supported a cluster of smaller, immature Meridae. It didn’t look like being a mom was an easy job, either. Each infant hung from her face, a skin lappet tightly gripped between their small blunt teeth. Ouch. No wonder their faces were stretched out.

  “That’s got to hurt,” I murmured to Reever.

  “Not at all,” the female replied.

  She was wearing a standard League wristcom and understood every word I’d said. They were all wearing wristcoms here. Good thing I hadn’t said something like, “What an ugly baby.”

  After hearing some of what the former slaves had endured, two of the Meridae led Reever off to discuss the Hsktskt/League war with their leaders.

  Vlaav and I obtained permission to conduct a standard sojourn survey. As I had been during my time on the Sunlace, I was responsible for the medical and anthropological data. Reever thought it was a good idea to collect as much information as we could on non-League civilizations.

  I suspected it was a ploy to keep me out of trouble.

  “What a wonderful family you have,” I said to the female with the kids hanging from her cheeks. Apparently that was the right thing to say, for she detached one of the infants and offered it to me. I cuddled the baby, and only had to gently discourage it from trying to latch on to the only significant protrusion on my face. “No, baby, you don’t want to bite nice Doctor Torin’s nose.”

  After that, the Meridae practically adopted us, and were happy to describe their culture. They performed nearly every function of life on wing, alighting on their tree structures only for rest, prolonged nourishment, or nursing the young.

  I learned the Meridae had no formally trained med pros or treatment facilities. Each family unit (called “throngs”) had a “fosterer”—usually an unmated female—who provided all health care. They even performed complex surgical procedures with a high success rate.

  When they learned we were physicians, they brought up a mysterious problem with persistent ulcerations among some of the younger males.