The Vastalimi Gambit (5 page)

Wink was a good medic, better than many, but his expertise was in meatball surgery and battlefield vectors. He could take care of the problems that arose in a small military unit most of the time. Injuries, diseases, allergies, what usually afflicted troops on an active operation. Cuts, breaks, burns, bullet wounds, STDs, flu, neuroses and psychoses, malfunctioning augs, a boxcar of things. What the machines couldn’t DX, he could usually manage on his own. He had enough training to know how to isolate and treat unknown bugs on an alien world that rarely affected humans, a decent knowledge of field epidemiology; but he was not a number cruncher who could program a shitload of esoteric information into a computer and have it spit out a miracle cure for something that a million other scientists had tried to do and failed.

Still, there was the chance that his eyes might spot something the Vastalimi Healers had missed, if only because they didn’t look at things the way humans did.

But as he looked at the Holographic Impious Particle microscope’s scan, he didn’t see anything that pointed him in a direction. He had already viewed dozens of tissue samples, and if there was an unknown bug in them, he hadn’t spotted it.

The old Vastalimi, Luque, had given him the run of the lab, and while he got more than a few curious looks as he poked around, nobody had bothered him. Luque ran a tight ship, and any of the employees who wanted to cause trouble apparently didn’t last long. Just as well. He didn’t want to use that as-I-stand phrase if he didn’t have to.

Not as if Wink was averse to risks; he had danced with Death more than a few times, and while he didn’t tell people, some of them knew: He enjoyed it. But there was the dance and there was suicide, and he wasn’t suicidal. Fighting with Vastalimi might as well be that for most humans. Maybe Jo could keep up with one, all her augs. He couldn’t, and he knew it.

He looked at the scan again. A view into the depths of a brain cell, and each organelle was accounted for, there weren’t any anomalies not in the catalogue. Nothing missing, nothing that shouldn’t be there.

You could compare every bit of this or that against what it was supposed to look like in an ideal state and see how it stacked up. Some parts were perfect, others less so, but there weren’t any foreign invaders who didn’t belong—no tiny sharks swimming in the Cytoplasm Seas, no dragons dug into the periplasmic caves.

Surely, if something was too small for the HIP scope to detect, it would be too small to do what the illness was doing to the Vastalimi?

If it was an infective agent at all . . .

Wink rubbed at his eyes. If the Vastalimi researchers hadn’t seen it, he wasn’t apt to, either; they saw farther into the red and violet than humans by a considerable margin, and the problem wasn’t fresh eyes, human or otherwise.

No, they were missing something, there was a blind spot, and the nature of such things was that if you knew what it was, it wouldn’t be a blind spot . . .

He’d have to talk to Kay about it, but his feeling was that she was probably onto something when she said it felt artificial. The Vastalimi had lived on this planet for millions of years, and pretty much any pathogen that could have arisen naturally had, as far as Wink could tell. Sometimes you figured out what something
wasn’t
rather than what it
was
, and what was left was your answer.

And sometimes you didn’t find an answer at all.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Got a visitor,” Gramps said. “Probably you want to see him.”

Cutter, bored with background reports he had put off reading and not unhappy to find another reason to put them off a while longer, said, “Send him in.”

“Best of the afternoon, Colonel, sah.”

“Singh? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The young man, all of twenty or so, approached, back straight, to stand in front of Cutter’s desk.

“At ease, Singh, have a seat.”

He did so.

“So you’ve come to take me up on my offer.”

“Yes, sah. You do not seem surprised to see me.”

“Yes and no. I know you were loyal to the Rajah despite his, um . . . behavior. But I heard he died. So on the one hand, you could have stayed on Ananda and not had that complication any longer. Then again, with him gone, you would be free to work where you wish if your hitch was up.

“Long way from there to here.”

“And it took most of my savings to afford the trip.”

Cutter smiled. How great it must be to be young and enthusiastic enough to pack everything into a shipping trunk and space halfway across the galaxy, hoping there’d be a job when you got there. Surely the gods did sometimes watch out for fools and children . . .

“Well, as it happens, we are always on the lookout for loyal and experienced troops. I know about the loyalty, and while you haven’t had as much time in the field as we normally prefer, I also know the quality of your training was first-rate, given as how it came from us. And that you can pull a trigger when it needs to be pulled.

“Go see Gunny. She’ll find you a bunk and get you squared away.”

The boy’s face lit up in pure joy.

“Thank you, sah! My debt is boundless!”

Cutter shook his head. “You’ll earn your pay, Singh, and Gunny will work your ass ragged.” But from the boy’s smile, Cutter knew that hard work wasn’t any kind of impediment, not even on his pradar . . .

As they finished their midday meal, still-warm
foof
-rats with a pungent blood sauce, Droc said, “So, how are things? As you recall them?”

She picked a bit of meat from between two teeth with her forefinger’s claw, flicked it onto the plate. “Mostly. Many of the faces are different, but the flow seems to be the same.”

“Your meal was acceptable?”

“Quite tasty. So much for the canard about
bolnica
food being uniformly awful.”

“Well-fed patients behave better. Can’t have them getting up to go seek prey because the food stinks.”

She nodded. “I do find it somewhat odd that I haven’t gotten any Challenges,” she said. “It has been several days, and I expected at least a few.”

“Disappointed?” Droc gave her the briefest of smiles.

“No, just remarking; however, I remember that facial expression, Brother. You know something of which you are not speaking.”

“I do not
know
, but I have a suspicion.”

“Which is . . . ?”

“Our sister the Shadow.”

“What of her?”

“She applies the law.”

“And what does . . . ? Ah. Yes. I see.”

“Good to know that your wits haven’t completely evaporated during your association with the humans.”

There was really no need to say it, but Kay said it anyway: “You think our sister has let it be known that she will be especially rigorous in her application of the law regarding
prigovor
in my case.”

“If I had to gamble on the premise? Indeed. Even though you and I know that Leeth would not knowingly break the law, she might . . . ah . . . bend it a bit. And if she would not do that much? There are more than a few among The People who believe that
Sena
abuse their power and adjudicate matters to their own ends when it serves them.

“Someone who might consider challenging you, just to see if they could win, might think that a Shadow peering over their shoulder for the slightest error is a matter of some concern. I would; even a careful person can misstep in matters of protocol. Were Leeth to hint at taking special care in investigating such, it would not be illegal, merely suggestive. Word would get around quickly.”

Yes. A Shadow looking at you with interest was to be avoided.

Kay nodded. “Family first.”

“Of course. ‘My sister and I against my cousin; my cousin and I against the pack; my pack and I against the world.’ Are your humans so different that you have forgotten this?”

“Not at all. If anything, they are much like us in that regard.”

“For their own kind, you mean.”

“It depends on how you define that. They have become in many ways my pack.”

“Made you an honorary human, have they?”

She whickered. “No, but Cutter’s tribe behaves as family, regardless of blood. There are more than a few of my cousins and a couple of sibs I would trust less than I do my humans.”

“Sister! I am shocked to hear this!” He smiled to give that the lie.

She shook her head. She had put all this behind her when the orbital ship took her aloft those long years ago. Now and again, memories of how it had been surfaced, but sitting here, talking to her brother, knowing her sister had her back? It was a powerful draw. Family
did
matter. Was it possible that enough time had passed so that the idea of being here at home was not totally unrealistic?

Probably best not to consider that option now.

“How goes the investigation?”

“Slowly. There are many people to whom I must speak, to gather information before I find a scent I can follow.”

He glanced away, and his thoughts were, of a moment, so easy to read as Leeth’s had been that he could have spoken aloud.

She said, “Yes, and Jak is among them.”

“Did I mention his name?”

“Might as well have; I had no trouble hearing your thoughts.”

“Hear these, then. He is offal,” Droc allowed. “Dried white dung is worth ten times more, and probably tastes better.”

“You never cared for him.”

“With demonstrably good reason.”

“Nonetheless, he has a direct familial connection. If I am to investigate, I must go where I must to find answers.”

“The only answer Jak will provide is how worthless a Vastalimi can be and still retain the ability to breathe.”

She shook her head. She had come to realize that herself . . .

_ _ _ _ _ _

Wink sat in the rear of the cafeteria, eating what was the least-bloody-looking thing they had to offer. A lot of what was on the menu was still alive when you selected it. It would be killed and butchered to order as you watch.
Is it fresh? Observe . . .

There were a score of Vastalimi in the place, and most of them had seen him here often enough over the last few days so that they didn’t just sit and stare at him anymore. Nobody had initiated a conversation, which was fine by him.

There were a lot of fascinating things here, and their medicine was more advanced than humans’ in some areas and less so in others. Much more trauma than pathogens, which went along with his own skill set.

He looked at his food, some kind of rootlike thing, it had a consistency of a half-baked yam and the color of meconium. It didn’t taste too bad, more
umami
than anything. He had eaten worse. He hadn’t asked what it was; better to not know . . .

So far, he had read tons of material and was probably getting an education on Vastalimi healing superior to that of all but a handful of nonlocal doctors in the galaxy. Not why he had come, but hey, take what you could get. Never know when it might come in handy.

There were a pair of Vastalimi seated at a table nearby, and with his earbud hidden and the translator’s gain turned up a bit, he was able to overhear their conversation easily. He felt no guilt about listening since a lot of the time, he was the subject.

He had gotten pretty good filling in the blank spots the translator left in the conversations though it still wasn’t perfect. What he overheard the two Vastalimi talking about was fascinating, as much for their attitude as the content.

The taller one said, “Did you hear about the Rel?”

Rel were pear-shaped bipedal herbivores, about the height of an average human but half again as heavy. They were hairless, had a spongelike grayish flesh, and they liked to decorate their skin with bright paint or dye.

“Only thing I know about Rel is that they taste like hide glue.”

“This one sneaked into a bog freighter and managed to get into Northport undetected.”

“Came to Vast
deliberately
? Scat you say!”

“Raeel’s Own Truth.”

“Why would it do that? That’s crazy.”

“So it was determined to be later. Mad as a stoned sackfly.”

“Continue.”

“It had been altered. Augmented.”

“A Rel.” The translator didn’t catch the disbelief in the shorter one’s voice, but Wink heard it clearly enough. He was getting better at that, too.

“Sped up, increased strength, and drugged to make it brave.”

The shorter one didn’t speak to that, only waited.

“Steel claws had been grafted onto its paws.”

The shorter one finally got the direction of the story. “You pull my fur.”

“Not even a single hair. It came here to fight. Prey.”

“Fuck your father!”

“Exactly what I said when Karsh told it to me.”

“What happened to this Rel?”

“It tried to challenge the first person it saw. You recall Svark, the freight handler?”

“The fem who likes fems?”

“That’s her. The Rel stepped up, blathered something about claw-to-claw combat. Waved its arms about.

“Svark killed it before it finished its speech.”

The shorter one nodded. “Of course. Probably had to shower the rest of the morning to wash the stink from her fur.”

“Armed, belligerent, altered
prey
. Here. On Vast.”

“Perhaps the End of Days approaches.”

“You jest, but it may be you speak more truth than you know. There is the Scourge that kills and no cause for it. Kluth is returned, with that furless Terran over there in tow. And now, prey with fake claws and an obvious death wish? Strange times indeed. Best you make your peace with Raeel.”

“Too late for that.”

They both whickered loudly.

Wink wondered what they would think if they knew
that furless Terran
was listening. He was not, however, tempted to tell them and find out . . .

_ _ _ _ _ _

Jak’s place of residence had changed. It was upscale, in the richer side of the district, and while many of The People did not care for things, Jak had always had a fondness for toys. Anything that made him feel better or look better or create a deeper impression on those around him? He would have it, could he get it.

Back when they had been a pair, that had seemed somehow amusing. Part of his charm.

The corridor was wide, with windows that gave a view of cultivated grounds, and the room in which she found him had tall ceilings, an entire wall open to the outside save for an air-curtain, and art objects carefully placed around the room. Jak sat on a couch—well, more like he
posed
upon the couch—of what looked to be a mottled, white-and-black alien animal hide she didn’t recognize, and he came to his feet immediately when she stepped into the room. His in-command stance, as she recalled it.

Jak
Masc looked much as Kay remembered him—tall, lean, fit, insouciantly at ease in his own fur. As handsome a male as any, more so than most, and very much aware of it. He’d had his claws enameled in what looked like matte-finished platinum. His fur had been brushed until it gleamed.

Obvious his fortunes had risen. Plating and hand-brushing like that weren’t cheap, and he hadn’t done those himself. And this place?

She had wondered what it would be like to see Jak again; what he might say if somehow such a meeting, however slim the chance, ever took place.

How are you? How have you been? I’m happy to see you.

I’ve missed you . . .

His words, now that the moment had come, were not among those she had imagined:

“How stupid are you, fem, to be here?” The edge of anger was a cold razor in his voice.

She had, over the years she had been away from Vast, reconsidered the actions that caused her to leave more than a few times. Jak had been a major part of her motivation.

In this moment, her actions seemed far less compelling than they had been at the time.

Far less compelling.

She said, “Droc asked me to come back to help him deal with a medical problem. It was my duty to do so.” She paused a moment. Before she had spent time among the aliens, it never would have occurred to her to finish her thought the way she did: “What would you have done in my place?”

The question surprised him, she could tell. The Kluth he had known would not have gone down that path. “I would have found a compelling reason to stay away. It’s too dangerous.”

Her sister had tried to warn her, she realized in that moment: His alignment has changed. I have never heard him speak of you . . .

The brief, tiny spark of hope that he might be concerned for her safety was quickly extinguished. “Your presence will likely roil mud long settled. It would have been best for all that you never returned.”

Best for all?

No. Best for Jak . . .

There had been a time when that thought would never have blossomed in her mind, either.

Well. Things change. Worlds move.

How low do the young and foolish fall . . .

That self-centered arrogance that once she had taken for decisive confidence was painfully evident. Hard to believe she had failed to identify it. It had taken being away for years before the truth finally visited her, creeping in like a caterpillar on hair-fine feet as she lay waiting for sleep . . .

How on Vast could she have
ever
considered becoming life-mates with Jak? How could a fem ever have been so densely
oblivious
?

Desire, she realized, was a thick fog that could completely obscure reality. Thinking with one’s
ruta
was not thinking at all . . .

It had taken a long time to percolate through her, the realization of her mistake. Even moments ago, some part of her had held out a minuscule hope that she had been wrong. That Jak would rush to her, embrace her, lick her face in joy at seeing her.

Desire breeds hope. But hope was, finally, snuffed out with his words.

She had left her home, given up her life, in no small part to protect a male, who, in the end, wasn’t worth her sacrifice. He hadn’t been the only reason, but she had counted him high on the list.

Stupid. She had been stone-headed stupid. No getting around that. He was what he was, evident for all to see, and she had missed it. Her family had tried to tell her, and she had ignored them.

No fem so blind as one who will not see.

Well. Live and learn and survive. Sometimes a hard lesson.

“I was sorry to hear about your family, but—why have you come to see me? You put me at risk by doing so.”

Self-centered, arrogant,
and
a coward. She had realized that, too, else he never would have let her leave. He would have stepped in front of her, to shield her. He had not.

It was embarrassing, how thick she had been.

It made her want to spit. Instead, she said, “Your uncle was among the first who died of the malady. I need to know about his activities before the illness manifested.”

“Why?”

“That is not your concern.”

“If you want my help, it is.”

“No, it is not. My brother’s status is much higher than it was when I left Vast. He is in charge of the investigation into the cause of this malady, which has now affected hundreds of The People, including
our
family. He has been given great leeway and full authority to conduct his inquiries, and I am his agent. You can help willingly, or I can call the
Sena
, who will compel you to it.”

“You would do that to me?”

Once, the look he now gave her, the throaty
jebati
-me trill in his voice, those would have melted her into mindless lust. Not now. “The choice is yours. And save the growl for a fem who just left the den, Jak. It won’t work on me anymore.”