S. L. Viehl - Stardoc 05 - Eternity Row

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For my sister, Kimberly Anne,
who knows all about making peace,
and has walked in beauty
every day of her life.
I’m so proud of you.
I love you.
Stay with us, sweetheart.
PART ONE
Contentions
CHAPTER ONE
The Sunlace
… and [I] will abstain from every voluntary art of mischief and corruption, and further from the seduction
of females or males, bond or free…
-Hippocrates (460?-377? B.C.)
Hippocrates must have never gotten the wife in the family way, I thought as I felt something tickle
my foot. Or he definitely would have covered baby-sitting in the oath.
“Okay.” I gazed around my operating table. “Who forgot to secure the door panel?”
That startled the sapphire-skinned Jorenian nurse manning the prep tray beside me. “Your
pardon, Healer?” Although her eyes were solid white-no pupils or irises-she wasn’t blind.
Neither was I. I pointed down.
Everyone looked down.
A fold of white surgical linen twitched, then someone small and unauthorized giggled.
The whole team tried to keep their blue faces straight, but if there weren’t big grins under every
mask in the room, I was a Hsktskt.
Serving as a thoracic surgeon on board the star vessel Sunlace, crewed by my adopted Jorenian
family, HouseClan Torin, was never dull. Squilyp, my boss and the ship’s primary physician/surgeon, had
alternated shifts with me and two senior residents so he could devote more time to training the junior
residents and interns on staff.
And usually, that wasn’t a problem. Usually.
Stuff like this never happened to my boss, of course. If the Omorr had been attending, the
patient would already be cut open and the procedure half done. That was because Squilyp was still a
bachelor and didn’t have to deal with inquisitive progeny sneaking in during his operations.
For me, it was the third time that week.
“Marel.” I crouched down and flipped up my eye lens to stop my cortgear from recording.
“Come out of there.”
Another fold moved. “Doan see me. I dibisibow.”
I sincerely hoped not. “I have to work now, baby. You can be invisible for me later.”
A perfectly perceptible blond head popped out from under the linen. Like me, she was small,
Terran, and used to getting her own way. “Be dibisibow now.”
I heard a suspicious, choking sound, and whipped up my head. My team became instantly
preoccupied with studying the upper deck.
“This is surgery, people, not day care.” I lifted the edge of the drape. “Marel, come out of there.
Immediately.”
She crawled out, stood up, and tried to see over the edge of the table. “Who dad? I see,
Mama?” She stretched up her arms. “Me up!”
“No touching.” Her small, eager hands were the reason I’d had all the laser rigs raised another
foot off the deck. I stripped off my gloves, then pointed to the door panel. “Out.”
She planted herself and gave me The Pout. “No, sday.”
The Pout usually preceded The Tantrum, so I saved time and everyone’s eardrums by picking
her up. That ruined my scrub, but she’d already contaminated the entire field. Which reminded me-how
had she gotten in here before we’d activated that? By riding on the bottom of the patient’s gurney?
“Deactivate sterile field.” The bioelectrical bubble enclosing us abruptly vanished. To the team, I
said, “Repeat patient prep and give me five minutes.”
Marel abandoned The Tantrum and resorted to The Wriggle. Fine blond hair flew in my face,
scented with a floral cleanser that always reminded me of Terran vanilla. “Me down!”
“Not a chance, kid.” I’d gotten over being afraid I’d drop and break her, but I still kept a firm
grip. She was really good at The Wriggle. “What happened to Daddy? Did you conk him over the head
with something?”
Mentioning her favorite Terran male turned her into The Dictator. “See Daddy! You dake me,
Mama!”“Oh, we’re going to see Daddy, all right.” Among the other things I intended to do to my
husband. “He should have picked you up from school two hours ago.”
She folded her little arms. “Daddy did.”
“Yeah, but he lost you again.” I didn’t have to use a console to find Duncan. The cortical-optical
receiver/transmitter-cortgear-I wore was the latest medical tech-wear from Joren. It not only recorded
everything I did, but could transmit that to any console on the ship. Very handy, if I wanted to watch an
appendectomy from the comfort of my own quarters, but Squilyp was using them mainly as a teaching
device. I flipped the lens down and relayed to my quarters.
No answer.
At my second signal, an austere, masculine Omorr face appeared on the inner surface of the lens,
an inch from my eye. Handsome, if one preferred males of the tall, pink, and alien variety.
“Yes, Doctor, what…”-my boss’s dark eyes rounded as I looked at Marel, then the shrouded
patient and surgical team behind us-“oh, no. Not again.”
Marel giggled and waved at my face.
“Again.” I adjusted my daughter’s weight on my hip. Though I considered Squilyp partially
responsible-after all, he had saved Marel after I miscarried by transferring her to an embryonic
chamber-he wasn’t on after-school duty today. “Where’s the guy who did this to me?”
My alien colleague’s prehensile gildrells undulated like a long beard of white snakes. “I’ll find
him.” “Find him fast, Squil. My bilateral hernia can’t wait all day.”
I removed my cortgear, then carried my daughter out of surgery and sat her down on an exam
table. The ward nurses, all of whom were my daughter’s personal slaves, wisely stayed away. “Now,
Madam, you and I are going to have a little talk.”
She tried The Adorable Smile, which displayed all nine of her seed-sized teeth. “Dawk
domorrow?”
“Today.” I stripped off my mask and surgical gown and tossed them into a nearby disposal bin.
“You promised me you wouldn’t sneak into surgery anymore, remember?”
Marel nodded slowly.
One of the new Jorenian residents hovered nearby, but he could wait. “What happens when you
break a promise?”
“Can pway with ’Sawa.” Tears welled up in her big blue eyes. Fasala Torin, the ClanDaughter of
Salo, Chief Operational Officer and Darea, the Head of Administration, was Marel’s unofficial big sister.
“For a week.”
“That’s right.” Being doused with hydrochloric acid would have been easier than watching her
cry, but one glimmer of sympathy and she’d mow me down. “You can’t be in surgery when I’m
operating on someone. It could make my patient very sick.”
“Why?”
That was her favorite word these days. The runner-up was “No.”
“Because.” I tapped the end of her nose. “You bring germs in with you. We’ve talked about that,
too, so don’t claim amnesia.”
The resident caught my eye again-one of the new guys, since I couldn’t place him. Like
ninety-nine percent of the crew, he was over six feet tall, blue skinned, and black haired. Young, too-not
a single line or wrinkle marred his handsome face, and no age strands of purple in his long, tidy queue. A
modest, silver pictoglyph symbolizing something important and Jorenian hung attached to the side of his
vocollar. His immaculate tunic fitted him like he’d been born with it on.
He was also definitely watching us. Why?
“Why?”
Distracted by Marel’s echo of my thoughts, I almost grinned. Almost. “The amnesia? Because
you haven’t figured out how to properly fake the symptoms yet.”
Behind her, a door panel opened, and a lean, fair-haired Terran male in plain black garments
strode in. The ship’s linguist wasn’t as tall as the new resident, nor half as bulky, but he moved with a
silent, ominous efficiency that made felines look gimpy. An equally lean, one-legged Omorr male followed
in his wake, displaying his own rather odd elegance of movement. If you could call all that bouncing my
boss did elegant.
“Okay. Here comes the cavalry.”
Marel turned to see two of the three males she adored most on the ship, then knuckled her eyes
and spontaneously burst into tears. “Daddy… Uncwip…”
The Heartbroken Sobs had a killer effect-both men looked like she’d hit them over the head with
a sledgehammer. My one-man fan club, on the other hand, seemed even more fascinated, and took a
couple of steps closer.
The dangerous-looking guy in black was the first to crumble, and had Marel in his arms before I
could blink. “It will be well, avasa.” To me, my husband said, “How did she get in there this time?”
I took a moment to appreciate the picture of tough, battle-scarred Duncan Reever holding our
delicate little daughter. “I haven’t a clue. She was hiding under the table, a foot from the enviro intake
vents.” I had nightmares about Marel’s fingers getting caught in them, but that wasn’t bothering me. The
guy now standing just behind my husband was.
“Excuse me,” I said to the curious resident, “do you need something?”
“Not directly. Your pardon, ClanCousin, I only wished to inquire about the patient in surgery.”
ClanCousin was what most of the Jorenian crew called me, but we’d all served together for a
long time. This guy, however, was brand new, and his familiarity bugged me. “‘Healer’ will do fine. So
will the patient. Why don’t you get back to work now?”
He inclined his head and returned to the nurses’ station. By then my daughter had worked herself
up pretty well, and had both of her slaves trying in vain to calm her down.
“Hush, child, no one is angry with you,” Squilyp said, rubbing her back with one of his
spade-shaped membranes and a few stray gildrells. He’d come a long way from the guy who had nearly
gotten killed after suggesting a half-dead child be disciplined more stringently to prevent future injuries.
“We are only concerned with your safety.”
Marel hiccuped through a sob. “Why?”
“Don’t start that again,” I told her.
“Senior Healer, perhaps you could erect some type of barrier outside the entrances to the
surgical suites,” Reever suggested.
“I’ve tried several.” The Omorr sounded a little annoyed. “They’ve never even slowed her
down.” “Well, think of a solution, Uncwip. I can’t keep stopping in the middle of cutting because she’s
sneakier than all the grown-ups on the ship.” Marel’s sobs dwindled, and I stroked the back of her blond
head. “Sweetie, you go with Daddy now. I’ll see you tonight.”
Reever covered my hand with his for a moment, then carried our daughter out of Medical.
“I’ll stay and assist,” Squilyp muttered as he stomped over to the cleansing unit with me.
I felt like I’d traded one kid for another. “I think I can be trusted to invert a couple of hernial sacs
without perforating the patient’s bowel.”
That got me a scowl. “Don’t be touchy.”
“You first.”
“I am not… I apologize.” He stuck his membranes under the sterilizer. “Allow me to assist, if you
would.”“It’s your show, boss.” What had put his face in a mesh? “I just work here.”
Our patient, Yarek Torin, was a data archive analyst and lifelong warrior-instructor. Over the
years, his dedication to teaching weekly classes in swordsmanship had earned him a great deal of respect
from the crew. Waving around all those heavy Jorenian multibladed swords had also given him a pair of
direct inguinal hernias, bilaterally opposed on either side of his pelvic bone.
“Reinitiate sterile field,” I said as we stepped up to the table and donned our cortgear. “Vitals?”
My assisting intern checked the monitors. “Stable and holding steady, Healer Cherijo.”
“Excellent.” I powered up the laser rig. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Clamp.”
Squilyp seemed content to observe, so I made the primary incisions. There were only a few
areas on Jorenian bodies that weren’t protected by a subdermal layer of cartilage, but unfortunately both
sides of the lower pelvis were among them.
“Nurse, a little suction here, please.” After opening the patient’s external oblique muscle and
separating the cord structures from the first hernia sac, I stepped back to let the Omorr make the call.
“Invert, or excise?”
He made a huffy sound. “Excise.”
I winked. “Just checking.”
Once I’d removed the protruding viscera, Squilyp took over and reinforced the site with
biomesh, to strengthen the abdominal wall and prevent reoccurrence. The other hernia wasn’t large
enough to merit excising, so I inverted it and did the same patch work myself. We worked without
speaking, except to ask for instruments, but I could almost hear the gears whirling around in the Omorr’s
busy head.
As we finished suturing up our respective sides of Yarek’s lower abdomen, Squilyp finally got
chatty. “Let me talk with Marel later. Perhaps I can influence her behavior. She has always responded
well to me.”
Was that the hair up his olfactory channel? I looked at the Omorr over the edge of my mask.
“She’s fine, quit worrying. Wait until next revolution-on Terra, we call that stage of development ‘the
terrible twos.’”
“What do you call the threes?”
“Nothing. We’re too busy thanking God we survived the twos.”
“I can see why.”
I finished the last suture and powered down the laser rig. “Done.” I watched him finish, then
stripped off my gloves. “Nice work, everyone. Let’s move him into post-op now.”
As the assisting nurse wheeled Yarek out of the suite, a Lok-Teel oozed down the wall and went
to work on the deck. The ambulatory fungus we’d discovered on a slaver depot world had become very
handy in Medical. The Lok-Teel absorbed almost any kind of waste and secreted a natural antiseptic
byproduct that sterilized the surrounding surface. The one we’d brought back had happily divided until its
offspring populated every deck, and had integrated themselves into everyday life on the ship.
“Cherijo, I think we should test Marel,” Squilyp said as we went to clean up.
Since emerging from Squilyp’s prototype embryonic chamber, my daughter had been
conspicuously healthy-no viral or bacterial infections, not even a little sniffle. Marel carried half of my
bioengineered genes; genes that had doubtless enhanced her immune system.
Among other things. Things I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. “For what?”
The Omorr misinterpreted my reaction. “I would never do anything to harm her.”
“I know that. God, she’s practically more your kid than mine.” I tugged off my outer gear. “I’m
serious, what kind of tests are you talking about?”
He removed his cortgear and pulled down his mask. “It would not hurt to run a full series. Her
growth rate is two percent below average for a Terran female.”
“She has a short mother.” Squilyp was famous for becoming obsessively meticulous under stress,
but I had a feeling Marel wasn’t responsible for his present bad mood. “All right, let me talk to Reever
about it.”
Once we’d stripped, cleansed, and checked on Yarek, who was doing fine, we retreated to the
Senior Healer’s office. I dialed up some tea for us and sat in the uncomfortable chair in front of his
console. “I hate this chair.”
“So does everyone else.” He accepted the server with an absent glance. “I’ll have it replaced.”
I nodded through the viewer at the strange resident, who was updating charts with one of the
nurses. “Who’s the guy with the pretty necklace?”
“Qonja Torin, a psychiatric resident.”
I raised my brows. “We need a psychiatrist around here?”
“They usually serve a portion of their medical rotation in space.” He frowned. “Is there a problem
with him?”
“No, he’s just… new.”
“After the retrofit on Joren, we obtained more than thirty new crew members-replacements for
the crew who chose to stay onplanet.” He gestured toward the viewer. “I can assign him to another
shift.” “No, I’ll get used to him.” I steepled my fingers. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s got your
beard in such a scramble?”
Squilyp seemed surprised by that. “Nothing.”
“This is me, Squid Lips. I’ve seen you go on these Mr. Wonderful binges before, remember?” I
grinned at the indignant reaction. “Come on, I’m serious-are the students making you nuts? Need me to
take over training for a few rotations?” My first attempt at instructor duty hadn’t worked out so well, but
I could try again. “I won’t browbeat them, I promise.”
“That would be rather difficult,” he said, “but the interns are not a problem. Neither are the
residents. Vlaav is ready to complete his final year requirements, and Adaola shows great natural talent
for microsurgery.”
I’d thought we’d left all the competitiveness between us in the past, but maybe Squilyp still had
some issues. “Is it me?”
“Of course not.” He set his tea aside, and spread one appendage end out on his desk. “It’s a
personal problem unrelated to work.” Something made him look, for a moment, very young and unsure
of himself. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I felt sorry for him, but I couldn’t let that last part stand. “Squilyp, I’m a fugitive genetic construct
on the run from basically everyone in the galaxy. My adopted family are lovely blue people who
eviscerate anyone who threatens their relatives-handy in my case, but often nerve wracking. My father
was a monster, my genetic twin, and experimented on me for twenty-eight years. My alien-raised
husband until recently had no human emotions, and you incubated my daughter in an artificial uterus.” I
laced my fingers together and rested them on my knee. “Believe me when I tell you, there is no personal
problem I can’t handle.”
He eyed me with speculation. “I suppose you’ll badger me until I do.”
“My reputation”-I shrugged-“has to be upheld.”
He began tracing circles on the surface of the desk with one edge of his membrane. “I’ve been
considering pursuing an alternative to my current situation. Certain biological imperatives are involved.”
I became immediately wary, with good reason. A certain Jorenian biological imperative had
gotten me accidentally betrothed. Twice. Everyone knew Reever and I were exclusive to each other, but
it never hurt to be cautious. “Could you be a little more specific about the imperative part?”
“Acting as surrogate father to Marel these past four cycles has given me great satisfaction. It
made me realize I’ve been denying my own personal needs in pursuit of my career.”
“And you need… ?” I spread out my hands.
“More than I have.” He rested his head against the high back of his chair and closed his eyes.
“It’s time I went home, Cherijo.”
Home. I checked on our patient one more time before heading in that direction myself. Yarek
was awake, comfortable, and talking with his bondmate, who gladly agreed to my instructions not to let
her spouse lift anything heavier than an eating utensil for the next three weeks.
My quarters were on level nine, two decks below Medical, so it was a short walk. Before I
reached my door panel, it opened and something small, fast, and blond came darting out.
“Mama! Mama!”
I found my arms full of twenty-two-and-a-half pounds of Terran kid. “How did you know it was
me? It could have been Salo.”
“CanUncaw woves me,” Marel said with the absolute confidence of a much-adored child.
“Daddy knew id you.”
My husband came to stand in the doorway. Somehow he always knew it was me, too. “Daddy’s
radar is pretty neat, isn’t it?”
Reever gave me one of his rare, spontaneous smiles-something Marel had taught him. “She has
been asking me to signal you every five minutes for the last hour.”
“Miss Impatience,” I said as I went into my husband’s embrace. Marel wiggled and laughed
between us. “So what’s for dinner?”
While Reever prepared our meal, I took a quick shower and dressed. As I came to the table, I
thought of what Squilyp had told me.
He can’t quit and go home. We need him.
Over dinner, we talked about work, and Marel informed us what she’d done in day school.
Once we’d finished, our resident Lok-Teel oozed over to clean up the scraps while we went into our
living area for family time. Marel had already begun tackling the elementary Terran reading texts at
school, so we listened to her read every night.
“‘See Max run.’” Marel traced her fingertip over the display of a little Terran dog. “Mama, we
ged a Max?”
“No, sweetie. We’ve already got Jenner and Juliet,” I reminded her, nodding at the two felines
presently curled up under the table at our feet. My Terran cats had wasted no time in consummating their
brief romance, and as a result Juliet had a nice, fat tummy. “They don’t like Maxes.”
She pouted a little. “I wan one.”
“You, Madam, want everything.” I tugged her into my arms. “How about a bath instead?”
Marel caught my neck in a stranglehold. “With buh-buhs?”
“Absolutely with bubbles.”
Bathtime was another task that required full-family participation. Reever’s job was to keep
Marel, the bubbles, and her bath toys in the small oval tank we’d recently installed. Mine was to apply
cleanser where needed, scrub, and rinse.
Marel’s job was to make all this as difficult as possible.
Finally, glowing pink and yawning, our daughter toddled off to her room. Both cats were already
waiting on her small sleeping platform to curl up with her.
“Sleep well, avasa,” Duncan said as he kissed Marel and tucked her in. “You are my delight.”
“You mine wide do, Daddy.” Marel peeked over the edge of the bright blue linens at me. “Sorry
I noddy doday, Mama.”
“No, you’re not.” That made her giggle, and I smoothed some fine golden strands back from her
now-green eyes. “Good night, baby.”
We turned down the optics as we went out and I dropped on the sofa. “How did she get away
from you today? Was she even at school?”
“I picked her up as usual, then put her down for her afternoon sleep interval. When I checked on
her a few minutes later, she was gone.” My husband eased down beside me, and began unwinding my
braid. “I went to see if she had slipped out to visit Fasala.”
I rubbed my cheek against his hand. “Can’t we put a bell on her or something?”
“We used bells for the cats.” Reever’s mouth touched my cheek, then drifted over to my ear. “A
small proximity transmitter would be more efficient.”
“Get some. I’ll attach them to her play clothes.” I pulled open the front of his tunic as an image of
Marel and a little Omorr playing together flashed behind my eyes. Wouldn’t that be something to see.
Duncan stopped kissing me and drew back. “Squilyp wants a child?”
“Hey.” I whacked his bare chest with my hand. “You promised me you wouldn’t do that
anymore.”
“I didn’t link with you. You projected to me.”
“Yeah, right.” I glared as I felt him slipping into my mind. Sometimes being married to a telepath
was a pain. Don’t say anything about this; he told me in confidence.
Proliferation is a natural desire. Reever’s thoughts echoed inside my head as he completed the
link. The Omorr need not suppress his biological needs, or be ashamed of them.
It’s a little more complicated than that, Duncan. He’s been suppressing going into season
to avoid this for a couple of years now, and that has to stop. Also, he needs an Omorr female, so
he’ll have to go home and get one. Not to mention all the endless contract negotiations involved with
Squilyp choosing a mate. Apparently, on his homeworld, marriage was about as much fun as working out
a cease-fire between warring armies.
You don’t want him to leave.
Sheer laziness. I don’t want to be Senior Healer again. I worked his tunic off and ran my
hands up his arms. I have other priorities now. Like finding out how you’re going to lure me from
this sofa to our sleeping platform.
His hands framed my face as he ended the link. “That will require minimum effort.”
“Hey. Maybe I’m not that easy,” I said, slightly miffed.
He slid his hands in my hair and pressed his mouth over mine. When we came up for air, my
hands were in his hair, and I’d somehow gone from sitting beside him to straddling him.
So I was easy. Big deal.
He stroked his hands over my back, and cupped my hips. “Are you still averse to the thought of
moving to our sleeping platform?”
I nipped the edge of his jaw as I rocked slowly against his lap, and the very solid, very enticing
anatomical changes down there. “Maybe.”
He stood up, lifting me with him. “I will have to convince you to think otherwise.”
“Yes.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Convince me, love.”
He would have, too, if a signal hadn’t come in over the console.
I sighed. “It could be Medical.”
With gratifying reluctance, Reever put me down so I could answer it. The image that appeared
on the vid wasn’t relayed from Medical Bay, however. Complex navigational equipment appeared
behind a stern blue face. Like many of the crew, my ClanBrother Xonea Torin wore his long black hair in
a warrior’s knot. Unlike them, he got to wear a dark gray Captain’s flightsuit.
“You were to report to my office after your shift,” he said, sounding mildly peeved.
“Sorry, I forgot.” And I was-I’d been making an effort to be more punctual lately. “Can we
reschedule for tomorrow morning?”
“That would be when you are to report to the departmental staff meeting.” His white eyes shifted
and focused on a spot behind me. “Perhaps Duncan can persuade you to program a reminder alarm.”
“I will see to it. Good night, Captain.” Reever reached over and shut off the console.
“That was kind of rude,” I said as he picked me up again.
“If Xonea wishes courtesy, he can signal our quarters at a more reasonable hour.” He dropped
me on our sleeping platform before securing the door panel and joining me. “It seems you require a great
deal of persuasion in several areas.”
I forgot about the Captain and arched under his hands. “Then you’ll just have to put in a little
overtime.”
I made up for missing the appointment with Xonea by making it to the staff meeting on time.
Barely. I smothered a yawn as I sipped my herbal tea and took my place at the oval conference table.
Department heads from every section on the ship gathered here to discuss everything from reassignment
of personnel to proposed sojourns. As Senior Healer, Squilyp should have been here, not me, but Xonea
had specifically requested I attend.
Individual departmental requests were presented first, and my attention drifted. I thought about
the Omorr’s decision to leave the ship, and how everyone would assume I’d take over Medical. Only
problem was that my life and my priorities had changed since the first time I’d joined this crew. Becoming
Senior Healer meant more time away from Marel, and we’d already been separated since her birth. I
didn’t want to miss any more of her life than I had to. And then there was Duncan.
“Cherijo.”
I dragged my thoughts back to the meeting I was supposed to be paying attention to, and noticed
everyone seated around the table was staring at me. “Sorry, what?”
Xonea gestured toward the star chart he’d holoprojected in the center of the room. “This is our
intended route to reach the Liacos Quadrant. What say you our first sojourn be for Taerca?”
There were two other stops planned on our journey, but I had some reasons to want to delay
those. “Sounds good to me.”
“I know little about my father’s homeworld.” My half-human friend Hawk, who had given up life
in the alien underground to help me and Reever escape Terra, sounded uneasy. Then again, it was hard
to sit in a chair when you had fifteen-foot wings to contend with. “Perhaps we should make the journey
another time.”
That meant jaunting to Dhreen’s homeworld, Oenrall, or trying to find Maggie’s homeworld,
Jxinok. Dhreen’s people were suffering from some mysterious disease he still hadn’t defined for anyone,
and Maggie-the only mother I’d ever known-was a manipulative alien who had implanted subliminal
messages in my brain and possibly meddled in my creation. “I vote for Taerca.”
“It is the logical choice.” Salo, Fasala’s ClanFather and second in command, punched up
another, more convoluted route on the chart. “Should we jaunt to Oenrall first, we would have to double
back, adding ten rotations to our journey.” He glanced at the empty chair where Dhreen should have
been sitting. “I would not advise we linger in this region. League traders have established trade routes in
this quadrant.”
The same League who would pay major credits to anyone who captured me.
“Let them attack,” Xonea said, sitting back and studying the chart. “We are well equipped to
deal with whoever challenges us.”
Maybe my vocollar wasn’t translating right. “Excuse me, but I thought our policy was not to deal
with these people.”
“The Ruling Council has ruled in favor of retaliation.”
This was news. I knew my ClanBrother preferred to stand and fight, but now he had his
homeworld’s blessing? “What kind of retaliation are we talking about, Captain?”
Xonea nodded to Salo, and a schematic of the Sunlace replaced the Liacos star chart. “The
retrofit we underwent on Joren included the installation of aft and stern sonic cannons. Secondary buffers
now reinforce each level, and Engineering has relocated the stardrive, helm, and weapons control, which
have also been fitted with autonomous power and fuel cells. All engagement-response systems now have
alternate backups duplicated in a different area of the ship.”
Cannons. Secondary buffers. Engagement-response systems. Nice way to refer to tech created
solely to destroy life. I didn’t like it, but the Jorenians had the right to defend themselves. Especially since
I was the magnet drawing all those bounty-hungry mercenaries toward the ship.
“So the new policy is what? We defend ourselves, disable the other guys, and leave?”
“We will not turn our backs to our enemies,” Salo said in that quiet, ominous warrior way. “Not
before the House, in the flesh or in space.”
The Captain nodded. “Thus decrees the Ruling Council of Joren.”
Something twisted in my stomach. I knew a lot about Jorenian customs, and this new policy went
way beyond what had been permitted before. “They said you could declare ClanKill on attacking ships?”
“In essence, yes. The decision remains solely a Captain’s prerogative.” Xonea smiled, and it
wasn’t pleasant. “I shall decide whom we pursue.”
“Terrific.” The one guy on the ship with the biggest chip on his shoulder as far as the League was
concerned now had his government’s blessing to hunt down and destroy his enemies. With a ship that
had over a hundred children on board.
Including mine.
CHAPTER TWO
Engagement Response
Reminding everyone about how vulnerable we were with children on board had defeated
Xonea’s pro-military agenda before; maybe it would again. “What about our kids?”
“I anticipated your concern.” Xonea made a slightly ironic gesture. “Combat training and battle
drills for the crew and their young ones will be held on a regular basis.”
“Warrior training for the children?” My voice climbed an octave. “Do you have a head injury I
don’t know about?”
“They will be taught to defend the House.” My ClanBrother gave me a stern look. “As will you,
Healer.”Before I could pick my jaw up off the conference table, Salo helped the Captain railroad me.
“Training schedules shall be decided at our next meeting, after the related programming has been
examined.” He passed down a stack of discs to me. “Healer Cherijo will perform the inspection.”
Healer Cherijo was about to perform some lobotomies. “I’ll get out my white gloves.”
That left only the unfinished discussion of where to go, and everyone voted to head straight for
Taerca. The meeting adjourned, but Xonea left before I could corner him. Not that I was worried.
People who avoided me usually regretted it.
Combat training. For children. For Marel. I stalked out. Over my dead body.
Hawk caught up with me outside. “You are upset, Cherijo?”
Steam should have been pouring out of my ears. “My daughter is only a year old, Hawk. I’d
rather she not learn to rip out someone’s intestines until she’s done cutting her baby teeth.”
“Let me carry those.” He took the discs from me. “The Captain can’t teach that to the children.
Marel is not large nor strong enough to kill.”
I scoffed. “You’ve never witnessed one of her tantrums.”
“I have, ClanCousin.” The new resident, Qonja, caught up with us. “Such sophisticated methods
of manipulation as she displayed yesterday, at this developmental stage-”
“Wait.” I held up one hand. “Who are you talking about?”
“I was speaking of your ClanDaughter.” He made a gesture used to display concern for a close
family member. One he had no business flashing at me. “I have several theories regarding her behavioral
aberrations.”
“Do you?” My temper, never a very shy or retiring thing, had been tugging at its mental chains all
morning. Links began to snap. “You know, I’d love to hear them, but there’s just this one problem.”
His brow furrowed. “What is it?”
“I was having a private conversation here. As in, it’s none of your business. Go away.”
Now he looked completely baffled. “Your pardon, but I merely wish to point out-”
All the chains snapped. “Get lost!”
Hawk’s wings arched as he moved in between me and the psych resident. “Shall I notify
Security?”
“That is not necessary.” For a Jorenian, Qonja seemed extraordinarily obtuse. “I believe I have
valuable insights to contribute to this dialogue.”
“I don’t. Take a hike.” With that I spun on my heel and strode away with Hawk. Once I made
sure our shadow hadn’t followed us, I sighed. “That guy is really obnoxious. How can he be from
Joren?” “He seems very eager for your approval.”
Perhaps that was all it was-a little misplaced hero worship. “Speaking of approval, why are you
so jittery about going to see your dad?”
“He left Terra before my birth.” His troubled expression returned. “My mother died soon after,
and my grandparents despised him.”
“Terrans are xenophobes,” I reminded him. “Why did he leave?”
“The Planetary Residential Commission deported him. My mother forced my grandparents to
vow to care for me.” He hesitated. “Cherijo, why is the Captain doing this? I thought Jorenians avoided
violence.”
“They do, unless someone attacks their kin. Then they hunt them down and kill them-no matter
how long it takes. No second chances, no mercy.” I thought of the ritual ClanKill I’d seen performed in
the past, and shuddered. “This ruling takes it to a whole new level.”
“Is that bad?”
“Xonea has permission to go after an attacking ship, with possibly thousands of people on board.
People who are simply doing their job. He won’t stop until he kills them all.”
“Oh.” He fluttered his wings for a moment. “The Jorenians are truly obsessed with revenge.”
“It’s just a little thing.” I waved a hand. “When they’re not disemboweling an enemy, they’re
really very nice people.” I thought of the nosy resident. “With a few exceptions.”
I left Hawk at his duty station, and checked my wristcom. I had another couple of hours before
my shift, but I felt too restless to go home to my empty quarters.
“Cherijo.”
I watched as Xonea approached. Apparently, it was my morning to be annoyed by everyone.
“That was some meeting.”
He studied my expression. “I thought you might be angry with me.”
“Aren’t you psychic?” I took a deep, cleansing breath. “Let’s do this later, when I don’t feel like
knocking you through a wall panel.”
“I will give you a brief demonstration of the combat training we intend for our younger crew
members, and all will be well between us.”
“You can do the show-and-tell for Squilyp.” I shoved the discs in his hands. “I am not going to
be involved with this inspection nonsense.”
He didn’t like that, and shoved them back. “You refuse to understand my point of view.”
“I’m a doctor, Xonea. I understand perfectly.” I planted my hand on my hip. “Most of the
surgery I performed when I was Senior Healer was as a result of attacks on this ship. Actually, I don’t
know why I’m complaining-if you kill everyone before they get to Medical, I can take some vacation
time.” “You are part of HouseClan Torin, Cherijo.”
So now it was down to emotional blackmail. “I took an oath to do no harm first.”
“Your oath will not protect your daughter.”
Somehow he knew my maternal instinct was just as ferocious as the Jorenian need to protect the
House-Clan. But then, they hadn’t elected Xonea Captain for nothing.
“All right.” I gave up. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Thirty minutes later, Xonea finished running the last of the juvenile combat-training simulations in
the environome, and shut down the program. “What say you now, ClanSister?”
“Besides uncomplimentary things about your lineage?”
He grinned. “You would not insult our ClanParents so.”
“Don’t push me, pal.” I finished skimming over the last of the training text from a data pad.
“Okay, I’ll admit, they’re very clever.”
Rather than try to fight, each child would be assigned a “safe place” where they would go during
摘要：

Formysister,KimberlyAnne,whoknowsallaboutmakingpeace,andhaswalkedinbeautyeverydayofherlife.I’msoproudofyou.Iloveyou.Staywithus,sweetheart.PARTONEContentionsCHAPTERONETheSunlace…and[I]willabstainfromeveryvoluntaryartofmischiefandcorruption,andfurtherfromtheseductionoffemalesormales,bondorfree…-Hippoc...

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