Crystal Healer (6 page)

"I have no doubt that you are," Squilyp said. "That is not what troubles me. Making a correct diagnosis is based on a combination of a physician's education and personal experience. You have no education, and your practical medical experience is limited to treating the rebels on Akkabarr, the Hsktskt on Vtaga, and some of the colonists on Trellus. Yet somehow you are able to retrieve very specific information about these cases on K-2. Only Cherijo had knowledge of them."

Anger swelled inside me. This was my body and my life. I was not surrendering them to anyone, even the woman who had owned them first. "Cherijo and her knowledge died on Akkabarr."

"The brain damage from her head wounds in effect wiped her mind clean," Squilyp said, as if correcting me. "Her body survived, and the tissue destroyed in the hippocampus as well as the entorhinal, perirhinal, and para-hippocampal nodes fully regenerated. You are the ego and personality that developed after the body's original mind was destroyed. If you can remember Cherijo's experiences, her patients . . ."

I made a rolling motion with my hand. "What?"

He glanced down and then back up at my face. "We must discover how you are able to access these memories."

"Senior Healer, Healer Jarn." A distressed-looking nurse from one of the lower wards rushed toward us. "Captain Xonea Torin and a detachment of militia are on the recovery ward. They wish to question one of our patients." She glanced at me. "Your bondmate is there, too, Healer. He says they may not."

Squilyp and I accompanied the nurse to the rehabilitation ward, which was occupied by patients who needed extensive physical or mental therapeutic treatment. I saw Xonea's men gathered outside one of the private rooms. They did not have their weapons drawn, but their expressions indicated that might soon change. The only sound I heard were two male voices coming from the room: Reever and Xonea, arguing in Jorenian.

"He never listens to me," I muttered as I stalked toward the room. Squilyp followed, and Xonea's men wisely moved out of our way.

Inside the patient room were my husband and my ClanBrother, standing on opposite sides of the berth occupied by the Jorenian female from whom I had removed the arutanium grenade.

"You
will
step aside, Linguist," Xonea was saying to my husband, "or I will have you detained."

"You may try," Reever replied.

I glanced at the patient, who had her berth linens pulled up around her neck and her eyes tightly closed. She appeared utterly petrified of both men--not that I blamed her. I doubt I would have enjoyed waking up to find a Jorenian warrior and a grim-faced Terran hurling words at each other over me.

"I don't recall giving either of you permission to speak to my patient," I said as I went to the end of the berth and picked up her chart. "Good morning, lady," I said to her, smiling as she opened her eyes. "I apologize for this intrusion. Generally we do not consider terrorizing patients as an acceptable form of therapeutic postoperative treatment."

"Healer," she said, her voice laced with panic. "I do not remember what I have done, but I would ask pardon for it."

"Up until this moment, you have been recovering from major gastrointestinal reconstructive surgery," I informed her. "For that, you need never apologize." I turned to Xonea. "Captain Torin. Unless you acquired a medical degree with a specialty in gastrointestinal surgery while Reever and I were on Trellus, you have no business being in this room."

Xonea scowled. "Cherijo, as your ClanBrother I have the right--"

"Forgive me, was I not specific enough? This is a patient's private room. You are not a physician or a therapist." I pointed toward the entry panel. "Get. Out."

He glared down at me, his shoulders rigid with indignation, and then he strode out of the room.

I regarded my husband. "I suppose you did not signal me about this before confronting Xonea because your wristcom is malfunctioning."

"Something like that," Reever agreed.

Squilyp hopped over to the patient's berth. "Would you excuse us, lady?" When she made a small, tight, affirmative gesture, the Senior Healer led us into the adjoining treatment room and closed the door panel."There is something I have to tell you before this goes any further."

"You are not allowing Xonea to question my patient," I told him.

"Of course I wouldn't," he snapped. "It wouldn't do any good if he did."

I closed my eyes briefly. "What is it?"

"In light of the patient's amnesia, I ordered a full neurological workup," Squilyp said. "Whoever planted the grenade in her body also injected her with a drug we have still not identified. Here are her latest brain scans and the neurologist's prognosis." He handed me a datapad.

Reever also looked at the data and read the report summary before he looked at Squilyp. "Have you told her?"

"Yes, after I consulted with several other neurologists," the Omorr said, and saw my scowl. "Jarn, she deserved to know the truth."

"The truth might have waited until her body healed." I had not had time to perform a proper visual assessment, or I would have checked her neck for her Clan Symbol, a small black birthmark that in normal Jorenians indicated genetic lineage. "Her Clan Symbol remains indistinct?"

"Yes. We have sent out signals to all of the HouseClans, along with a detailed physical description and images of her features, but none have claimed her." Squilyp hesitated before adding, "Her DNA does not match any known HouseClan profile."

"Run the tests again," I said, "because that isn't possible."

"Were she born on Joren, I would agree with you." The Omorr's gildrells undulated with agitation. "She has the physical appearance of an adult Jorenian female, but there are some cellular anomalies in her tissues and fluids that are not inherent to the species."

"She may have been alterformed specifically to infiltrate Joren," Reever suggested.

The Omorr shook his head. "There are always signs on the cellular level of genetic tampering: strand splicing, chromosome deformation, and the like. I did not detect any of them. Once I could not match her DNA profile to any HouseClan, I thought she might be the product of forced breeding by a slaver."

"No freeborn Jorenian would reproduce in captivity," Reever said."They do not tolerate enslavement. Like the Hsktskt, they commit suicide at the first opportunity."

I recalled Marel's pictures of Kol and Jory. "Not all. The members of HouseClan Kalea are the children of enslaved Jorenian females who were force-bred by their owners. Perhaps something like that happened to her Jorenian parent."

"Whatever her origins, this female is in many ways like a newborn infant--much like you were, Jarn, when you first came to consciousness on Akkabarr," Squilyp tagged on. "Xonea can question her all he likes, but she will be unable to provide him answers. We believe the drug administered to her effectively destroyed her memory center."

"Are all forms of amnesia considered mental defects on this world?" I asked.

The Omorr shook his head. "Not unless it is accompanied by delusions or psychosis."

"It's nice to know that I'm either delusional or psychotic." The time had come for me to put an end to Xonea's scheming. "Here." I took the scroll case out of my tunic and offered it to my husband. "It's written in old Jorenian script. If need be, can you read it?"

"Yes." Reever removed the scroll and unrolled it, his eyes skimming over it. "An interesting document." He replaced it in the case and met my gaze. "I will not ask where you obtained this."

I nodded. "That would be best."

The three of us returned to the patient's room. The female's eyes darted toward the open panel leading out to the corridor before she moved to sit up. The motion made her grimace.

"The exercises are helping, but sometimes my stomach yet pains me," she said almost apologetically. "The nurse says it will be some days before I may rise from the berth."

I saw Xonea watching us. "Shut the door panel, Squilyp." I made my voice loud enough for him to overhear. "The lady deserves privacy for her exam."

"I do not think I am well enough to walk." The patient made a gesture toward the corridor. "But Captain Torin said he would provide me with a glidechair when he transports me to security headquarters."

"Captain Torin is not taking you anywhere," I informed her. "My name is Jarn, and I am the surgeon who removed the grenade from your abdomen. I would have first obtained your consent, but your delirium made that impossible. Also, aside from the obvious risk of explosion, the device was leaking trace amounts of arutanium, which would have quickly poisoned you. I had no choice but to immediately operate."

"So I have been told." She gave me a tentative smile. "The Senior Healer has said that I would be embracing the stars now, if not for you."

"I regret that we cannot do more about your memory loss." No, I didn't, as she might be the only thing to stop Xonea from wreaking havoc in my name. "Perhaps someday a new treatment will be found for your condition."

"It frightens me to think about it," the patient admitted. "I cannot fathom why someone would do such a thing to me."

"We believe that you were used in order to get to me," I said. "The explosive planted in your body was designed to kill any Terran who touched it. But the one who did this to you knew that I would recognize the device, and that I had the skill to remove it safely."

She frowned. "Then why was this done, Healer?"

"The goal was not to kill me, but to force me to leave Joren." I saw her confused expression. "The circumstances are difficult to explain. It was a complicated situation that has now been resolved."

"I am happy to hear it." She reached out and touched my forearm briefly."I am also grateful for my life, Healer. Anything I have is yours."

"I must ask you to do something for me," I told her. "When Captain Torin and his men return to this room, I want you to shield someone."

"I may only do that if someone has threatened to harm me or one of my kin in my presence." She seemed bewildered now. "No one has done so, and the Senior Healer is unable to determine who my kin are. Whom shall I shield?"

"The male who implanted the grenade in your body." I sat down on the edge of her berth and gazed into her shocked eyes. "I know what he did to you was a terrible thing, lady, but I assure you, he has been made to pay for his crimes." When she didn't respond, I added, "I would not ask this of you, but more than what was done to you is at stake. Many innocent lives are in danger. Your forgiveness may be the only thing that can protect them."

"The one who did this might have easily killed us both." She hesitated and placed a hand over her abdomen. "You saved my life, Healer. If it is your wish to have his life in return, then I make it yours."

"I thank you, lady." I nodded to Squilyp, who called Xonea and his men back into the room. "Captain, by operating on this female, I saved her life. DNA tests indicate that she does not belong to the Torin. Do you dispute either of these facts?"

He peered down at me. "Why should I?"

"If you do not understand the question," I advised him, "I will request another representative from HouseClan Torin to attend me."

His normally elegant hands made choppy motions as he spoke, betraying the anger underlying his impatience. "I do not dispute that you saved her life or that she belongs to another House. That does not prevent me from questioning her."

"No, it doesn't. But first the lady has something she wishes to say before witnesses." I turned to the patient. "Madam?"

She glanced at Xonea before she said, "I shield the one responsible for implanting the grenade in my body."

"How know you to . . . ?" Xonea's face darkened as he realized the implications of her statement, and swung around to glare at me. "This female may shield whom-ever she wishes, Cherijo, but it changes nothing."

"Actually, it does," I said, stepping between him and the berth. "By shielding her attacker, my patient has forgiven the harm done to her and, by extension, the indirect threat made to me."

"There was nothing indirect about that grenade," he grated. "It was designed to explode the moment a Terran touched it.
You
were the only Terran surgeon on Joren. Do not bother to deny it."

"I have no intention of doing so," I assured him. "But I recognized the device and took care not to touch it while I was operating. Thus the grenade was a threat only to her life, not mine."

"There were other patients present," he said. "Nurses."

"The grenade had a contact trigger," I reminded him. "By the time I took the lady into surgery, which is the time when the device presented the threat, the facility had been evacuated. I used only a drone assistant." I smiled at him. "Try again."

"She was sent here to assassinate you," Xonea shouted.

I shrugged. "Whoever made her into a bomb has been shielded. Everything related to that act is irrelevant now."

"The lady brought a bomb into this facility," my ClanBrother sneered. "Willingly or not, that was a direct threat. You are not permitted to shield her without my consent. So I can just as easily declare her my ClanKill."

The Omorr hopped over to stand beside me. "You will first have to claw your way through me."

"No, Senior Healer, that won't be necessary," I said softly. "By law, any injured warrior treated by the healer of another HouseClan is shielded for the duration of their treatment and recovery. No word, intent, or act on their part may be declared as a threat to the House."

Xonea looked ready to declare everyone in the room his ClanKill, starting with me. "You invoke the law of mercy?"

"I do. I even brought a copy of it for consultation purposes." I gestured toward my husband. "Duncan will read it out loud to you, if you like."

"I know the law, and it grants only a temporary reprieve." Xonea spat the words as he would a curse. "I can wait until she recovers."

"Then you will spend a lifetime waiting, Captain," I said. "The lady will never recover completely from all of her injuries."

"Drug-induced brain damage has caused her permanent memory loss." Squilyp handed him the datapad with the neurologist's report. "Read for yourself."