Crystal Healer (9 page)

We went back to our quarters and I slept in Duncan's arms, better than I had in weeks.The next morning I sent my husband off to take Marel to school, and went to meet Squilyp at his private lab. We'd arranged it the day before, officially to discuss the results of the tests he had performed on Reever's most recent tissue and blood samples.

Unofficially, we needed to talk about a lot of things.

"Wait, there is something on you." Squilyp stopped me just outside the lab and used a gildrell to pluck something from my hair. He showed me a fragment of
yiborra
grass. "Have you been rolling in the grass, Doctor?"

"Only once or twice. Reever and I were too busy doing other things." I took the bit of grass and tucked it into my tunic pocket. "Speaking of mates, have you signaled Garphawayn lately?"

"I signal my mate each night, thank you. If I did not, she promised to separate my head from my shoulders when she and our sons return to Joren." He keyed in the access code to the lab, which he had built and designed for his personal use, and led me inside.

"They're coming back from Omorr to visit you?" This was news to me.

"They will come back to live here with me. I have been offered a position as Chief Medical Adviser to the Ruling Council, and I intend to accept." Squilyp went to his central control panel and turned on several emitters, illuminating the interior. "We have already been granted permanent residential status. All my mate needs to do is decide among which HouseClan she wishes to live. It would be more convenient to reside with the Adan, but she has become very attached to the Torin."

I had been planning to ask Squilyp to join the expedition to oKia, but now I hesitated. As much as I wanted the Omorr in Medical, this position sounded far more important. Squilyp also had a rather demanding wife, to whom he was utterly devoted, as well as two young sons he adored. It would be selfish to expect him to drop everything to jaunt to oKia with us.

"What about your families on the homeworld?" I knew the Omorr lived almost as closely as the Jorenians did. "Do they approve?"

"My family acknowledges the honor of the position. Her family"--he rolled his dark eyes--"is displeased by our decision to raise the twins away from Omorr, but I think they will come to accept it. Thus far they have made only the token arguments."

I went to examine an interesting-looking experiment in progress. "They're more afraid of her than you."

"Everyone is," he agreed. "Don't open that."

I studied the contents of the culture dishes. "What is it?"

"My latest batch of epithelial scaffolding cells." Squilyp hopped over and peered into the culture incubator I was inspecting. "As I suspected. They're not bonding with Reever's tissue samples. I'm afraid that so far, nothing has."

"If the chameleons don't bond with host cells, then how can they repair and replace damaged organs?"

"When I discern that," the Omorr said, "I will be the wealthiest surgeon in the galaxy." He saw my expression and sniffed. "Cherijo was never so gullible as you. The reason I commissioned this lab was to protect my research. No one can know about Duncan's condition, Jarn. If I can discover how to implant chameleon cells in another host body, they could be used by less virtuous researchers to create virtually indestructible armies."

We went over the test results, which had yielded little new information. Squilyp had performed a comprehensive series of scans on the chameleon cells I had harvested from Reever's kidneys and liver, but they did not respond or behave like any other form of human cell.

"My best guess is that in an environment outside the body, the cells become dormant," Squilyp said. "They may have been engineered to do so to prevent unnecessary growth or accidental transfer. They are not fooled by implantation into simulated bodies, either."

"You can't experiment with them on living beings." I gnawed at my bottom lip. "Have you tried organic stimulants?"

He nodded. "Organic, recombinant, and synthesized. The results are the same. No reaction; no growth. Scans show the cells are alive, but inert."

That reminded me. "I have some other samples to give you for testing." I put my medical case on one of the worktables and opened it, removing several vials of blood and cellular samples I had prepared. "These are from my body. While we are gone on this expedition, I would like you to perform some specific tests on them, as well as my husband's."

"Of course." He transferred the samples to a refrigerated case. "What do you want me to check?"

"I want to know how to reverse the bioengineering that Joseph Grey Veil performed on us," I said. "In my case, I need a treatment to repair the tampering performed on my DNA in utero, and in Duncan's, a process that will safely remove all of the chameleon cells from his body."

"What?" Squilyp stopped fiddling with the incubator's controls and stared at me. "Why?"

"If we can somehow undo Joseph's genetic tampering, Reever and I would be able to live normal life spans," I explained. "We could have more children, grow older, and die a natural death."

For a long moment, the Omorr said nothing. Then he turned his back on me. "No. I won't do it."

I had not counted on his resistance to the idea. "Give me back the samples, then, and I will do the research myself when I have time."

He swiveled around. "Do you even know what you're asking me? Essentially, you want me to find a way to kill you and Duncan."

"Not immediately. Barring disease or injury, the average life span of a Terran in good health is ninety to one hundred twenty years." On Iisleg, we would have been fortunate to live half so long. "That should be sufficient for us. It is for every other Terran in existence."

"I cannot believe you." Squilyp began hopping around the lab. "You and Duncan are immortal. Every being in the known universe would wipe out entire star systems to have what you've been given. Now you tell me that you wish to throw away this tremendous advantage?"

"We want to be like every other being and live a normal life span." I gestured toward the incubator. "Whatever you discover in this lab, I can tell you now, immortality is not an advantage. It is death. The greed for it causes madness and war and destruction. If Duncan and I were like every other Terran, no one would fight over us. No one would care."

"If you were like other Terrans," Squilyp spat out the words, "Reever would be dead, and so would Cherijo. They would never have met. You wouldn't even exist. Neither would Marel."

That hurt, almost as much as Xonea's hatred. "Do you know what Duncan asked me to do while we were stranded on Trellus?" I countered. "He told me that I should implant chameleon cells in Marel's body. Do you know why?"

"She has no need . . ." The Omorr stopped and his eyes rounded. "Of course. As you are, you will both outlive her."

"Undoubtedly." I folded my arms. "I told him I wouldn't do it. I would rather give her away to be raised by the Jorenians--by anyone--than force her to endure what we have."

"Marel is only a child," Squilyp argued. "This is not a decision you need make now. You have many years before she reaches adulthood."

I held on to my patience with grim determination. "You built this lab to protect your research because you're afraid of it being misused. Bounty hunters are out there, right now, looking for us. How much longer do you think it will be before the research is stolen, or we are found and taken and dissected?"

The Omorr's hide turned a darker shade of pink. "The Jorenians will protect you."

"If I were a bounty hunter and I knew two immortals lived on this would, do you know what I would do?" I pointed toward the ceiling panels. "I would gather an armada of ships and launch an attack from orbit. I would wipe out every sign of life on this planet. Then I would go down and find the only two people left alive. That would be me and Reever."

Squilyp's shoulders sagged. "No one would attack Joren to capture you. No one would dare."

"They already have," I reminded him. "Twice. Three times, if you count the patient that was made into a bomb."

He sat down behind his desk and rested his head against his membranes. "We could arrange an accident--fly a scout into a star and make it look as if you were killed. We could create new identities for you. Hide you on a world where you would not be found."

"Would you wish to live like that?" I asked softly. "Always running, hiding, afraid of being discovered? Would you wish Marel to do the same, and grow old while her parents remain young? Do you think you could watch your children grow old and die, all the while knowing that you could never journey to the next life with them?"

"Omorr do not believe in a next life." He rubbed his eyes, and then saw my face. "No, Jarn. I could not bear the burden of it."

"Then please, old friend, help us." I sat down in front of the desk. "Find a way to reverse what was done to us." I reached across and took one of his membranes in my hand. "Give us a chance at life. Ordinary life. One we can live in peace."

"I will try." Squilyp gripped my fingers for a moment, and then rose. "Come. I want you to meet one of my new residents."

I had a great many tasks to attend to in order to prepare for the expedition, including telling my daughter about it. "Perhaps another time. I have much to do."

"You'll want to meet Jylyj," the Omorr assured me. "Xonal told me about this expedition you're planning, and I think this resident could be very useful. Aside from the fact that Jylyj is a gifted surgeon, he is also Skartesh."

I frowned. "I was told that world had been destroyed during the war."

Squilyp hopped out into the corridor. "It was, but many of the Skartesh escaped before the end." He waited until I came through, and then secured the access panel. "The survivors have recently established a new colony on one of K-2's moons."

I recalled what Reever had said about the Skartesh being isolationists. "Why is this Jylyj not in residency there?"

"According to his transfer papers, he left K-2 soon after the Skartesh were tricked into attempting a mass suicide. He does not speak of his people at all, so I imagine it had something to do with that." Squilyp shrugged. "Whatever Jylyj's origins, he's the finest resident I've ever trained. Brilliant in and out of the surgical suite. I've been assigning him the most challenging cases on the ward, and he's yet to lose a patient. As it happens, he has a reputation of having a magic touch. All the patients he treats have healed quickly, and with no complications."

I accompanied Squilyp to the surgical ward, where the nurses were preparing for rounds. I had no difficulty spotting the Skartesh, as he was the only non-Jorenian on the floor.

While Squilyp conferred briefly with the charge nurse, I watched Jylyj assessing a post-op case. He wore a green resident's tunic, fitting for a four-limbed humanoid male. I had not yet grown accustomed to seeing furred species, so at first glance the dark brown pelt covering his body and face made him seem more like an animal than a person.

After my initial, unfavorable reaction, I saw reassuring signs that my first impression was in error. The dense black ruff of fur surrounding Jylyj's features had been trimmed short, as had the five curved black claws on his paws. His eye, as solid black as the Jorenians were white, made me wonder for a moment if he were a crossbreed. ClanLeader Sajora Kalea, a crossbreed Jorenian, had possessed solid green eyes. The resident's ear flaps stood straight up on either side of his head, and small circles of some amber alloy hung from the right flap.

Animals, I knew, did not adorn themselves.

The black coloration of Jylyj's slanted eyelids, pointed nose, and lining of his long, narrowed-jawed mouth gave him a menacing look, as did the heavy musculature of his frame under the fur. At the same time, he moved carefully, and the low tone of his voice as he spoke to the Jorenian patient sounded warm and pleasant. I noted how gently and efficiently he used the long, clawed digits of his paws to check the surgical dressing and adjust the berth to a more comfortable alignment. He might look like a killer, but he had the air and focus of a natural healer.

Jylyj looked up and met my gaze.

I could not put a name to what I saw on Jylyj's face and in his eyes. For the most part, ensleg emotions still mystified me. It was what I felt that made me take a step back. I had never seen him, had never encountered his kind here or anywhere, and yet . . . I knew him.

As he knows you
, something whispered soundlessly behind my eyes.

"Senior Healer." After what had happened last night, I did not want to listen to any more voices in my head. "May I speak to you?"

"Forgive me. Two new patients were admitted and I had to schedule their procedures," the Omorr said as he joined me. "Why the Torin must beat each other senseless in the warrior's quad to prove their manhood, I will never understand." He followed the direction of my gaze and stepped in front of me, blocking Jylyj from my sight. "You look terrible. What is it?"

I shook off the unnerving sense of recognition. "Nothing," I lied. "A minor headache. Please introduce me to your resident."

For the first time since coming to Joren, I did not impress a fellow colleague. Once Squilyp had introduced me with the usual amount of unnecessary detail, the Skartesh resident made a brief, modified version of the Jorenian gesture of welcome, and immediately returned to attending to his patient.

"No," I murmured when the Senior Healer began to call him back. Unlike the Omorr, I understood the resident's behavior, and it had nothing to do with the look we had exchanged earlier. Now that I knew what--and who--I was dealing with, I could act accordingly. "You will perform rounds this morning with him. I will observe."

"That," the Omorr told me flatly, "is ridiculous. You are a surgeon, not a student."

"Indulge me." I smiled a little at the bizarre sense of satisfaction I felt. At least with this ensleg, I knew exactly what to do.

We made rounds of the ward, and I took care to remain silent and observant, and spoke only when asked a direct question. At first Jylyj treated me with polite suspicion, but when I did not intrude on his conversations with the Senior Healer or offer any unrequested opinions, most of his animosity dissipated.