Saga of Shadows 1: The Dark Between the Stars (33 page)

F
OURTY
-
FIVE

T
OM
R
OM

Rest only made him restless, and after a week of being back at Pergamus, Tom Rom was anxious to go out on another mission for Zoe.

James Duggan’s desperate demand for access to the Heidegger’s cure had unsettled many of the researchers. From his offices, Tom Rom tapped into their private conversations and eavesdropped on their laboratory chatter. He found it disturbing.

Some of the scientists went back to their work as usual, but several grumbled about the terms of their contracts. By now, Tom Rom knew that idealistic medical researchers, and humans in general, would rationalize ways to do what they wanted, to change the terms of their promises. To him, that was like breaking the backbone of a moral code. He didn’t understand why anyone would prefer chaos and uncertainty to clear-cut, black-and-white stability.

Zoe never shared her cures, her library, her information. Never. Tom Rom understood that. If she decided to make an exception because of James Duggan’s sad story, then she would have to make decisions on anyone else who asked for information or treatment or cures. It was only a matter of degree. Even if she had given the Heidegger’s cure to save one blind artist, she couldn’t possibly help all the sick. That had never been Zoe’s goal. What would be the point? Anyone who called her selfish and ruthless simply didn’t understand her.

Now, Tom Rom entered the main Pergamus infirmary dome for his scheduled medical inspection. He had a complete workup each month and another physical examination before he left on any mission. He underwent a full body scan, 3-D muscle map, blood tests, saliva tests, DNA scan, heart monitoring, pulmonary function workup, circulatory tests, dental and vision exams—whatever the doctors wanted to do to him. Zoe’s face appeared on the screen, watching him, always watching him. That didn’t bother Tom Rom; rather, it made him feel secure.

“We have to keep you healthy, Tom. No surprises, no disease, no malfunction, no degeneration. You expose yourself to so much out there for me. You know how much I appreciate it.”

“I do it for you, Zoe. That’s enough.”

If he ever did contract some exotic malady, he knew she would move planetary systems to treat him, bankrupt herself to fund a cure. He didn’t believe he deserved it, but Zoe did, and he wouldn’t disagree with her.

As the doctors prodded and scanned him, he ignored them and spoke to Zoe instead. “Any new findings on the Klikiss royal jelly I delivered?”

“It’s an interesting substance, unusual biochemistry. We don’t quite know what to do with it, yet. Three teams are still running analyses.”

Tom Rom focused on her face on the screen so he could ignore the sting of a deep lymph needle. He didn’t measure what obtaining that royal jelly had cost, didn’t consider the blood price of the annoying camp administrator. If the man had minded his own business, he wouldn’t have had to die. Tom Rom never sought out violence, but when someone got in his way, he did what was necessary. “Where would you like me to go next?”

Zoe brightened, although he knew she didn’t want him to go so soon. One of Tom Rom’s greatest rewards for the risks he took was the pure joy Zoe expressed whenever he returned. If he hadn’t had any other reasons driving him, that alone would have made it all worthwhile. Zoe’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Several possibilities, but we’ll start with this one. Rumors of a brain parasite on Ramah that causes rapturous hallucinations. I’ll transmit the files.”

The planet sounded familiar. “Ramah was the home of the madman who claimed to have found heaven in the Klikiss royal jelly.”

“He may have suffered from the parasite himself,” Zoe said, “but the royal jelly controlled it. We would need specimens to understand better.”

Tom Rom listened. “Obtaining tissue samples as well as an intact and viable brain parasite may be difficult. And it would raise questions.” His lips curved in a faint smile. “But I’ll get you one.”

“Be careful,” she said.

“I will be—always.”

When Adam Alakis was dying, Tom Rom had hated to leave young Zoe alone, but it was pointless for them both to stay on Vaconda just to wait. And wait. Zoe kept herself awake by consuming high levels of jungle stimulants in order to keep researching the disease. She slept only two hours a night for weeks at a time.

After all the time Zoe, Adam, and Tom Rom had spent trudging through the lichentree forests, studying the underbrush, testing leaves, berries, roots, and fungi, Zoe was convinced there must be some option for a cure on Vaconda. No one knew how her father had contracted the extremely rare disease. Armed with his tissue samples and blood tests, she refused to give up hope, insisting there was a miracle solution hidden in the biological reservoir, somewhere.

Tom Rom knew that the likeliest source for a cure lay in the work of the original research team that had made progress investigating Heidegger’s Syndrome. He vowed to help Adam Alakis. More important, he wanted to save poor Zoe from the looming tragedy.

So he left her at the watchstation to take care of Adam and flew off to the university laboratory on New Portugal, where he hunted down the members of the research team, now dispersed. He wanted to ask why they had made reasonable progress, then lost interest and devoted their work to other things. Personally, Tom Rom hated to leave a job unfinished.

Hydrogues were attacking numerous planets, but he didn’t care about that. New Portugal was isolated, frightened by the war, waiting for the next announcement that another planet had been devastated by the alien warglobes.

When he found the university researchers, he asked polite questions, then was forced to interrogate them more vigorously. He began by being reasonable, asking them to cancel their other projects and relaunch their work on Heidegger’s Syndrome with the goal of finding a treatment. But the researchers refused, unmoved by the plight of Adam Alakis. They were dismissive of Tom Rom—which only made their situation worse. They didn’t understand how determined he was.

So, he made up his mind to kidnap the researchers and drag them back to Vaconda where he would force them to continue their research at the facilities in the forest watchstation. Adam Alakis already had the medical equipment any scientific team could want, and Tom Rom would provide anything else they required—provided they did the work he asked.

After they turned down his initial request, he lured the researchers to an empty laboratory late at night, locked the doors, increased the illumination. He identified the scientists by their names and tied them to chairs, where they were unable to move. Tom Rom asked them about the Heidegger’s research protocol they had developed, the results they had achieved.

He spent hours getting details from them, using intimidation when possible, pain when necessary. Baffled and terrified, the researchers tried to lie to him, but Tom Rom was not merely a thug—he understood their work from first principles.

Soon, it became quite clear that even if he dragged them to Vaconda and forced them to treat Adam Alakis, their work was only at a preliminary stage. Any possible cure was still years away.

“There were promising avenues,” admitted one of the researchers, a stocky, square-jawed woman. “But Heidegger’s is an orphan disease. The cure wouldn’t benefit enough people. It’s not worth the time and effort—”

So Tom Rom killed them all. The violence resulted from a flash of uncontrolled anger, and over the years Tom Rom had come to regret the lapse. As he looked down at their silent, cooling bodies, he muttered, “What do you think of the cost now?” They had made judgments about the
value
of saving other people’s lives, so he judged them. Then he departed.

The news of some horrific defeat of the Earth Defense Forces swept across New Portugal, frightening the population. He cleaned up the site of the crime as best he could, but he wasn’t worried about being pursued. No records of his identity were in any database, and with the Spiral Arm embroiled in a genocidal war, a small crime like this was not likely to be solved. Ironically, he thought, it would not be
cost effective.

He never told Zoe what he’d done, simply reported that the research was incomplete and that the scientific team could not help. He did not want to burden her with the unpleasant knowledge. Over the years, though, Tom Rom realized that Zoe Alakis could have handled it well. . . .

Much, much later, with her sophisticated Pergamus facilities, unlimited funding, and the best researchers she could possibly hire, they had indeed found a cure for Heidegger’s Syndrome. They catalogued the symptoms, causes, and treatments—but during the work Tom Rom had uncovered an even more burdensome secret, one that he could never allow Zoe to learn. A private analysis showed that
he
was a Heidegger’s carrier. He was not affected by the disease, showed no symptoms, and according to the most reliable statistical indicators, the chances of him infecting anyone was practically zero.
Practically.

Given all the time he had spent with Adam Alakis on Vaconda,
he
had to be the one responsible. Tom Rom treated himself as soon as the cure was available, purged all trace of the disease from his body. But Zoe didn’t know, nor could she ever know.

As soon as the Pergamus doctors proclaimed him healthy and fit for duty, he headed out to find a sample of the Ramah brain parasite. He did enjoy being on Pergamus close to Zoe, especially the rare times when she allowed him past all the sterilization precautions so they could talk face-to-face like two normal people.

But he had to continue the work, and no one was more reliable. Tom Rom took his ship and departed from Pergamus in search of new diseases.

F
OURTY
-
SIX

A
RITA

When she arrived back at Theroc after her unsettling expedition to Eljiid, Arita drank in the sight of the green, tree-covered planet.
Home.
But by now Reyn was likely on Earth.

Bristling verdani battleships orbited the world like a crown of thorns, huge sentient trees that had burst free of their roots, transformed into mighty guardians. Integrated into each treeship was a green priest pilot, a body and mind combined with the heartwood to watch over the worldforest. Friendly vessels considered the verdani battleships majestic and awe inspiring, while enemies feared the enormous orbiting trees.

As her shuttle passed among them, Arita could feel nothing from the giant treeships beyond a distant and haunting echo, a tantalizing whisper of what she should have been able to hear. The worldtrees had altered her before rejecting her. She had been prepared for all the changes associated with taking the green, but none of that had happened. The failure itself was not unusual, supposedly not a humiliation, but no one had ever heard of a candidate being changed in any other way. Once again, Arita didn’t understand.

Back home again, she bounded off beneath the canopy, listening to the constant stir of fronds overhead as well as the movement of people, the buzz of winged vehicles flitting among the thick trees, shuttles landing and taking off.

More than a dozen lifts ran up to the primary fungus-reef. Arita worked her way through levels of offices and reception halls, passing guards and protocol officers who recognized her. She found her parents in the main throne room. Although they ruled the whole Confederation, each afternoon Peter and Estarra served as Father and Mother of Theroc. Wearing traditional robes and headdresses made of insect wings and beetle carapaces, they listened to the concerns of their people.

Arita entered in time to hear a complaint that a wyvern had been terrorizing a village on the coast. The large carnivorous creatures were rare, but this one had already devoured four people, and the villagers asked for assistance. King Peter ordered a team of hunters to go slay the monster.

When the villagers left, Estarra rose from her throne, smiling. “Arita! You didn’t let us know you were home!” She and King Peter came down to greet their daughter.

Old Father Idriss sat in his chair of honor. Though retired, Idriss liked to feel he was still an important leader. His wife had died when Arita was thirteen, and he had little else to do, so he sat in on many sessions. Lately, Arita had seen Idriss snooze through the discussions (despite his insistence that he was paying close attention). Now, the old man stirred himself awake. “Ah, Arita is back—about time!” His gray brows drew together. “Where did you go again? I’ve forgotten. Earth?”

“Reynald went to Earth,” Peter said. “Arita went to Eljiid.”

“Never heard of it. Is it an Ildiran world?”

“Klikiss world,” Arita said. “Lots of ruins.”

The old man grimaced and levered himself out of the chair. “I kept this chair warm for you, Granddaughter. You’ll have to take my place. Watch closely, listen closely. There are important matters afoot.”

“Important matters?” Arita asked. “What’s happening?”

Father Idriss shook his head. “I don’t know—ask your mother. I’m going to go lie down.”

After he made his slow way out of the throne room, Arita settled into the secondary throne, as instructed, while King Peter called for the next petitioners.

Ten green priests entered, led by tall, humorless Kennebar. Arita’s friend Collin was with them, and her heart skipped a beat; she caught his eyes, and he turned away but not before she saw a confused patchwork of emotions in his eyes: embarrassment, guilt, and worst of all, pity for her.

Arita felt disappointed in how her childhood friend seemed to be giving her a cold shoulder. They had been so close, had cared so much for each other. Did Collin believe the trees might think less of him if he maintained his friendship with her? Now he spent most of his time with Kennebar’s increasingly isolated green priests.

As children, she and Collin had been equally fascinated with bugs and plants. Neither of them had imagined the verdani would accept one of them and abandon the other. Even if he no longer saw her as a proper partner, romantic or otherwise, Arita missed his friendship. It wasn’t unheard of for a green priest and a normal person to fall in love. . . .