Endurance Page 2

  “The Terran female would really, really like to be released now.”

  “Leave us,” I heard TssVar say.

  Those two words from the Hsktskt Commander effectively cleared the area. The towering OverLord lumbered across the deck to stand by my berth, and began reading through my chart.

  TssVar would have made one hell of a doctor. Faced with the OverLord’s massive physique and nightmare visage, no patient in the universe would have ever given him lip.

  I could appreciate those qualities. Everybody gave me lip.

  Octagonal keratin scales bulged over wide cords of sinew and muscle as TssVar tossed the chart aside with a grim hiss. His black tongue flickered out to taste my air as he personally examined me. Hsktskt facial muscles didn’t lend themselves to much emotion, but even I could gauge the level of his contempt.

  “I have seen more attractive fodder, SsurreVa.”

  SsurreVa was the Hsktskt name he’d given me. It translated literally to “thin-skinned.” Wonder why.

  One of his clawed hands lifted the edge of the dressing on my chest. When he saw the wound, he expressed even more disgust.

  I wasn’t falling for any intimidation tactics—this whole mess was his fault. Instead I glanced down, and made a tsking sound. “Beautiful work your guards do on unarmed prisoners.”

  “You Terrans are far too flimsy.” He replaced the dressing. “We will find something else to use on you besides pulse weapons.”

  Something that didn’t damage the goods, I gathered. “That might be wise.” I wasn’t going to offer actual suggestions as to what. Plus there was something I wanted to know. “How is the Chakacat, Alunthri?”

  His lower eyelids slid up, then down. “Alive.”

  That word covered a lot of bleak territory. “Where is it?”

  “In General Detainment.” He flashed some impressive enamel. “For now.”

  Which I’d take to mean don’t press my luck. “When do I go back to my cell?”

  TssVar draped a limb along the edge of my berth, and bent toward me to examine my expression. “Have you not tired of it?”

  “Oh, no. I love lying naked in a dark, cold cell with nothing to eat or drink for days.” I showed him some of my teeth. “First vacation I’ve had in years.”

  “Indeed.” Hsktskt understood sarcasm, but rarely reacted to it. “I think you wish to hide. You did not anticipate HalaVar’s actions.”

  Actually, I’d been stunned. During the attack, Reever had used my natural hesitation to disarm me—he knew some bizarre tricks when it came to self-defense. I remembered how I’d huddled on the deck, staring up at him. Betrayed by the one man I never would have suspected of turning on me.

  You signaled the Hsktskts.

  Yes. I signaled them.

  That was when they’d brought Reever’s leverage in: Alunthri, collared and chained. That finished any hope I had of having another go at the heartless bastard. A moment later, TssVar entered, sized up the whole sad, horrifying tableau, and had me hauled off to solitary detainment.

  Reever was probably still congratulating himself at this very moment, I thought, as he enjoyed the Hsktskt hospitality suite. I had been caged like an animal. Thank God, Alunthri was in with the other League prisoners.

  Or maybe I shouldn’t feel so happy about that. What if the other captives found out the Chakacat was my friend? Me, who had betrayed them.

  I wasn’t going to brood over it. TssVar wanted to keep me alive, that was pretty obvious—the Hsktskt weren’t known for their patience. But my chances of freeing Alunthri and the two of us escaping were slim to none.

  That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.

  “We spoke of this before,” TssVar said. “Warm-bloods often betray each other.”

  “And I said I should learn to be like you, Over-Lord, and trust in no one.” I tested the plasteel restraints, which felt far too tight, effectively cutting off circulation to my hands and feet. Blasted nurses. “Take me back to my cell.” Or anywhere these League staffers couldn’t get at me.

  “When you have recovered, you may ask HalaVar,” TssVar said. “You are his property.”

  My brows rose. “I don’t think so.”

  One claw snapped a new detainment cuff on my uninjured wrist. Not gently, either. “You belong to OverMaster HalaVar.” His lipless mouth stretched in a gruesome imitation of a smile. “Unless he decides to sell you on Catopsa.”

  My regenerative physiology once again had me mostly healed within a few days. Convenient, since the Medical staffers got on my nerves in as many hours.

  During my recovery, I had plenty of time on my hands to observe how the League ran a medical department. Compared to the Jorenians, on whose star vessel I’d spent the last year, these staffers were undisciplined, unsupervised, and unbelievably inefficient.

  At first I resisted the urge to correct one of the staff for neglecting proper procedure. Eventually I gave up and simply yelled.

  “Nurse! Get a syrinpress. That man in berth nine should have had his meds two hours ago!

  “Does the patient with the limb injury have to develop gangrene before you change her damn dressing?

  “When does the primary physician intent to perform rounds? After all these people slide into comas?”

  “Calm yourself, SsurreVa.” A reptilian voice came over my headgear after one of my tirades. “You are provoked too easily.”

  I clapped my hands over the receiver against my ear and sat straight up in my berth. TssVar. “You’re monitoring me?”

  “We monitor all slaves.”

  Nice to know that now.

  I decided to stop yelling directly at the staffers. It wasn’t their fault no one cared enough to supervise them properly. No, I’d vent my spleen to the primary medical officer, someone named Malgat, as soon as he made rounds.

  That took two full rotations.

  “Where have you been?” I started in on the short, hairless humanoid when at last he appeared by my berth. “These people need some management, pronto, because …” I stared down at the syring press in Dr. Malgat’s two-fingered hand. “What is that?”

  He prepared it for infusion. “Joseph Grey Veil left instructions to administer this test compound, and several others.”

  “You are not experimenting on me!”

  Malgat gave me a small, sympathetic smile.

  Lazy nurses had their uses. No one had bothered to check on me or my restraints. It had taken hours, but I’d managed to work my good hand free.

  As soon as Malgat leaned over me, I knocked the syrinpress away. It went flying across the ward, dropped, and slid beneath an exam table.

  “No more test compounds.” Twenty-seven years of that waste back on Terra had been more than enough for me.

  Malgat appeared confounded. I guess his other lab rats had never tried to bite his clammy little hand before. “Doctor!”

  “Forget it.” Before the primary recovered from his shock, I loosened the other three straps and yanked the monitors off my chest and head.

  “No!” The little creep tried to hold me down. “Nurse! Assist me!” To me, he said, “Remain where you are!”

  “In your dreams, pal.” I bashed the bonesetter around my wrist into his thick neck, sending him reeling, then I rolled off the berth. Infusers ripped from my flesh. Blood trickled down my limbs. “Back off.”

  “Return to your berth,” he said, holding a palm against his bruised flesh as he came after me. “You are not well.”

  I was just dandy. Sore, and naked, but not defenseless. I skirted the berth. Released the clamps on the bonesetter and shook it off. Picked up my chart and eyed his skull. Big, soft veins pulsed beneath his brown-spotted derma.

  “I bet your species has no cranial bone,” I said.

  He stopped. “What?”

  “I’d hate to rupture your brain tissue with this.” I held up the chart. “Keep coming and I will.”

  The nurse who’d threatened me the first day came up behind Dr.
Malgat. She had a syrinpress in her hand and a lovely smirk puffing out her cheek pouches. This was just the opportunity she’d been looking for. I could hear her now, explaining the tragedy. I had been struggling, trying to escape. She hadn’t meant to administer an overdose, but what a shame, her finger had slipped on the calibrator.

  “This patient, Doctor, shall I sedate?” she asked Malgat.

  Meaning, I’d better get moving. A chart wouldn’t dent the thick skull under all that fur.

  I looked around. Grabbed a dermal probe off an instrument tray to my left. Held it out like a bladed weapon.

  “Try it, you shrew,” I said, “and I’ll carve out your heart.”

  The nurse’s broad tail slapped the deck, while she made a strange sputtering sound.

  “She will do what she says.”

  I went still at the sound of the cold, dispassionate voice. Malgat sighed with relief. The shrew bristled, furious. A tall, light-haired man stepped around both of them.

  He was a good-looking Terran male, if you overlooked the empty expression and bleak blue eyes. He moved with grace and economy for a man his size. The sinewy build and natural athletic strength helped. In fact, the only outer flaws he possessed were the thick webs of scars on the backs of both hands—for the time being. I planned to add more in other places.

  “Look who’s here. My husband.” I smiled. The brewing hostility inside me spewed out in a geyser of scalding rage. “Hello, Reever, you corrupt, evil, traitorous, lying ass—”

  “Enough, Cherijo.” He took a step forward. Held out his hand. “Give me the probe.”

  “You mean this?” I turned the instrument in my hand so the sharp end jutted out from my fist. “Specify the artery.”

  He made a brief survey of my body. Not even a spark of interest glimmered in his chilly gaze. Ah, gee, didn’t he want me anymore? Apparently not. Guess I was supposed to be crushed.

  “If you attempt to harm me again, TssVar will subject you to much more than solitary detainment,” he said.

  Treacherous, unfeeling, blunt as always. Same old Reever. “I’m going to do more than attempt, pal.” I jabbed the probe toward him. “I don’t care what happens to me.”

  “You forget that Alunthri can be made to suffer as well.”

  That did it. I lunged.

  A heartbeat later, he countered my attack easily, pushing me back and pinning me to the wall panel beside the berth.

  This was worse than his threats. “Get off me, damn it!”

  I fought, but he was bigger, stronger, and in much better condition. He pegged my wrists above my head with one of his strong, scarred hands and relieved me of the probe with the other. I jerked my knee up, but one long thigh blocked me just short of my mark. Too bad. I would have enjoyed the thought of him speaking with a squeak for a few days.

  “Stop.” He used his body weight to hold me in place. “Don’t fight me.”

  He was touching me, and I’d sworn I’d never let him do that again. “I’ll kill you!” I could feel his heart beating rapidly against my bare breast, and twisted. “Get off!”

  “When you give me your word you won’t attack anyone.”

  I’d tell him I’d mate with Malgat, just to get him away from me. “Fine.” I took a deep breath, let it out. “I promise not to attack anyone.”

  He took the precaution of stepping out of knee-jerk range before he let my wrists go. Like most males, he was protective of his genitals. Smart move. One of my immediate goals was to kick his up into his esophagus.

  He gave me the once-over again. “I will get you a tunic.”

  “Don’t bother.” I kept my eyes on him as I grabbed a berth sheet and quickly wound it around my body. He watched my hands knot the linen over my breasts. My body had never impressed him, so why was he suddenly so interested in covering it up?

  I pushed past him. Shoved the venomous nurse out of my way. Headed for the Medical entrance panel. One of the Hsktskt glared at me, then snarled something in Reever’s direction. My headgear was askew, so I didn’t pick that up.

  “Cherijo.”

  I paused, but didn’t turn around. “What?”

  “Report to my quarters.”

  “Right.” When I sprouted wings and could fly there.

  I kept going. Another Hsktskt guard stepped out to block my path. A huge male, almost as big as TssVar, but broader and with a noticeable slope to his brow. He wore the rank of a squad commander, or OverCenturon.

  “Slaves do not roam the ship unsupervised.”

  This was getting old. “Call off the guard dog, you jerk.”

  “Address the OverMaster with his proper title,” FlatHead said, baring rows of discolored incisors. He smelled as good as his teeth looked.

  “Sure.” Now the damn lizards were correcting me. “Call off the guard dog, OverMaster HalaVar, you jerk.”

  FlatHead activated his weapon and targeted my face.

  “She is part of the medical staff. Let her pass.”

  Hsktskt enamel crunched as he ground his teeth together, but the OverCenturon stepped aside.

  I stalked out. In the corridor, I automatically hitched up the sheet and realized absently that I was barefoot. Good thing the deck was insulated. Wouldn’t want to catch a chill before the Hsktskt scientists on Catopsa got a chance to dissect me. Might mess up their tests.

  After locating the nearest glidelift, I stepped in and keyed the console for my own quarters on level six. “At last.”

  Reever got in the lift before the doors closed. He reprogrammed the lift to go to level nine. “I will accompany you.”

  “Your funeral.” I didn’t look at him, either. The sight of him in a modified Hsktskt military uniform still made my blood boil. “You’ve given the med staffers free access to the ship?”

  “Within reason. OverLord TssVar is aware of your professional oath to do no harm.”

  That last part sounded like a warning. He didn’t realize it but he’d just given me a sizeable weapon. A moment of silence passed. I amused myself by thinking of creative amputations I could perform on Reever. Minus anesthetic.

  He ruined my fantasies by saying, “The Hsktskt guard you offended—stay away from him.”

  “I offended who? Mr. Manners?” I heaved a counterfeit sigh. “Here I thought I’d made a new friend.”

  “His name is GothVar.” He keyed something in on the wrist unit all the Hsktskt wore. Probably a note to have me clapped in manacles later. “He has long disliked slaves, particularly Terrans.”

  “Considering who he has to work with?” I lifted a hand to cover my mouth. Rage was fun, but tiring. “Can’t say I blame him.”

  “I want you to listen to me.”

  “Keep talking. I always yawn like this when I’m riveted.”

  It took a few seconds before the lift slowed and came to a halt at level nine. I walked out and down the corridor, with Reever trailing me.

  “Why am I here?” I said before I crossed the threshold of his quarters.

  Reever pushed me through, then closed the door panel, but didn’t secure it. Foolish man. “Continuation of prisoner orientation.”

  Forget that. “Send me back to my cell.” When he didn’t, I halted in the center of the mostly empty room. “Look, you’ve given me the speech. Seen me naked. Thrown me in the brig. What’s left?”

  “There is something I have to give you.” He pointed to a circular depression in the deck. “First I must complete your orientation. Stand on the scan pad.”

  Another scan. They’d already done a million of them. Might as well get it over with, I thought, and stepped into the circle.

  Reever crossed to the room console and keyed in a rapid sequence code. “Initiate identification scan.”

  A blinding white light scanned me from crown to soles while a drone voice began to recite the facts.

  “Life-form identification: Torin, Cherijo. Terran female. Physician. Thoracic Surgeon. Height: 4 feet, 11 inches. Weight: 82 pounds. Hair: Black with silver st
reak above right temple. Eyes: Blue. Derma: Terran Caucasian.”

  “You forgot the freckle behind my right ear,” I said.

  That confused the drone. “There is no indication of abnormal pigmentation in that area—”

  Reever made an impatient sound. “Disregard subject input. Results of most recent physical evaluation.”

  “P.E. performed by Malgat, Evo. Includes inspection, palpation, percussion, and auscultation of body and organs. General results reflect a well-developed female.”

  Evo had barely glanced at me, much less performed a full eval. “There was no P.E. performed. Your primary probably had to guess at my gender.”

  Reever didn’t react to that. “Proceed.”

  “Neurological Assessment: Awake, alert, oriented to environment—”

  “Don’t start talking neuroanatomy to him,” I said to the console. “He’ll get aroused.”

  The program ignored me, too. After finishing the neuro stats, it started on the cardiovascular. “BP and heart rate consistent with intense athletic conditioning—”

  “An athlete?” I chuckled. “Hardly. Wait, does whump-ball count?”

  It droned on and on. “Respiratory Assessment: Respiration quiet and regular—”

  “I only spit when I think of you, Reever,” I said.

  The automated program noted during the integumentary stats that my derma met genetic norms, but that I had no PIC.

  I frowned. “What’s this pee-eye-sea?”

  Reever didn’t answer me. During the recitation of my musculoskeletal stats, the drone stated there was little evidence of any former injuries.

  I flexed my stiff wrist. “I’m still thinking about suing.”

  A white spot beam abruptly switched on and focused on my wedding band. “Unidentified metallic ring encircling third finger of left hand, as indicated.”

  I’d forgotten about that. I pulled off the ring Reever had given me back on Joren, and tossed it at the console as hard as I could. It bounced off and rolled beneath the unit. “Not anymore.”

  The console recited the sensory stats, noting some evidence of hypersensitivity to light, consistent with my recent detainment.

  “Is it usually this obtuse?” I asked. “Or is today a special occasion?”