Eternity Row (33 page)

Flushed nearly purple, my Omorr colleague barely kept his gildrells from flaring as he surreptitiously tugged at the front lines of his tunic. “Greetings,
adorelee
, negotiator. Honored members of the Cestes household.” He bobbed a couple of swift bows, then stared at Garphawayn as if she were a goddess.

“Hmph.” The goddess looked him up and down a few times, then turned her back on him and whispered something to her negotiator.

“You were not present when the
adorlee
kindly graced this vessel with her presence.” Lemesen tucked her three arms into a complicated, huffy mesh. “Not an auspicious beginning to negotiations, Lord Maftuda.”

Lord
Maftuda? In spite of myself, I choked back a laugh.

“Forgive my tardiness and neglect.” Squilyp was almost stammering. “In my duties I am sometimes required to step outside protocol and treat the suffering. I will take measures to assure it will not happen again.”

“Speaking of inauspicious beginnings, Senior Healer”-I did a little armfolding of my own-“it would go a long way in smoothing things over with the crew if you explained Jorenian protocol to the
adorlee
. In detail.”

He leaned over to murmur, “She’s already insulted someone?”

“Everyone she’s spoken to so far. Including me.”

“Surely we are not going to be required to remain in this facility?” Garphawayn regarded the patient berths with faint horror. “In communal sleeping areas?”

“No, this is only for patients. I would be honored to escort you to your quarters,” the Senior Healer assured her.

As the Omorr delegation bounced past me, Squilyp following up behind, I leaned over to murmur, “Don’t kick her in the heart. You’ll break your foot.”

That got me a dirty look. “She’s only shy.”

“Right. So are bone saws.”

“
Adoren
!” The female Omorr stood waiting beside the door panel to the main corridor. “I should like to see my quarters
today
, if it would not be too inconvenient.”

I watched as my boss hurried off after his highly displeased intended, and wondered how much return postage it would take to send back this nasty little package.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Gains and Losses

Garphawayn of Cestes decided to remain on board for a grace period of several weeks, while her entourage returned to Omorr to negotiate the marriage contract. Apparently, the final round of talks were held between their families, while the two lovebirds got to know each other.

The Senior Healer apologized to me for doubling up on shifts so he could allot the proper time for their courtship. “I will compensate everyone once the matter is settled.”

We’d just finished morning rounds, and I’d been away from his fiancée long enough to feel a little charitable. “Yep, you’re going to owe me big time. So how is it going, anyway? She loosening up a little?” Personally, I didn’t think that would happen without dunking her in an immersion tank filled with mechanical lubricant, but miracles were known to happen.

He looked pained. “Omorr females are not as… informal… as you Terrans.”

I nodded. “So she’s still complaining about basically everything that moves.”

A reluctant chuckle left him. “Or doesn’t.”

My hasband surprised me a little later that shift by reporting for his next series of kidney screens. “As you said, I have put this off long enough.”

“He must be ill, boss. He’s actually listening to me.” I prepped an exam table and checked Reever’s vitals while Squilyp scrubbed to perform the biopsy. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to check your stats. Your readings hardly ever vary more than a few points, either way.”

“Neither do yours.”

“Yeah, but I’m genetically engineered to be perfect, while you…” An image of Joseph’s underground lab flashed through my mind, and I froze. “Chameleons.”

Reever peered down around the table. “Where?”

“No. Not the lizards. I need to do a molecular thermal spectrum. Squilyp!”

The Senior Healer appeared, freshly sterilized and masked. “Is something wrong?”

I pushed Reever down and sterilized the extraction site above his mysterious kidney before infusing him with local anesthetic. “Take the biopsy.”

As soon as the Omorr had retrieved a sample of Reever’s kidney cells, I grabbed the biopsy needle and headed for the hemoanalysis unit. Over my shoulder, I yelled, “Reever, keep that tunic off. Squilyp, do a deep systemic scan, see if his renal vein or regional lymph nodes are enlarged. Check the perinephric space for nodules and soft-tissue attenuation, and have a look at the inferior vena cava and the main renal vein while you’re at it.”

“What is it, Cherijo?”

“I think I know where the kidney came from.”

Performing a spectral analysis of Reever’s renal tissue down to the molecular level seemed to take forever, but gave me time to think about my extremely wild theory.

Did you actually do it, Joe? Did you create a chameleon?

My creator had rarely talked about it, mostly because the lack of apropos technology and cohesive organic material rendered it basically theoretical. By varying the characteristics of the organic solvents encapsulated within a bioartificial organ-the kind he grew in his laboratory on copolymer scaffolding-he had reduced the time it took for the transplant recipient’s own cells to replace the neo-organ. In the process, he’d also stumbled across an interesting side effect: Transplanted “stem” cells, which stimulated the re-growth process, were in fact not replaced, but incorporated as part of the resulting engineered tissue.

“I found no criteria to support carcinoma,” the Omorr said as he hopped in.

“It’s not carcinoma. It’s a chameleon.”

“I am not familiar with that term.”

I told him about my creator’s original experiment, and went on from there. “If the remnant stem cells were programmed to release themselves from the copolymer prior to incorporation, they’d enter the bloodstream and reattach themselves to another diseased organ, continuing the replacement process.”

“But that would only work on twin organs.”

“Not necessarily. Take a look at this.” I pointed as the molecular data began scrolling onto the vid. “See the variations in ten percent of the cell sample? Those aren’t kidney cells. They’re the chameleons. Bioengineered to alter their molecular structure to match whatever organ they attach themselves to. Reever was born missing a kidney, but he apparently had enough remnant renal cells to attract the chameleons.”

“What you’re talking about is medically impossible.”

I reminded him about the Core, the sentient pathogen which had nearly wiped out the colony on K-2. That single-celled organism had possessed the ability to mimic their hosf’s native cells, down to the chemical signatures. “And, aside from xenobiological examples, the Terran body cannibalizes millions of cells every second. We grow a new gastric lining every four days, new skin every four weeks, and regenerate our livers in six. Even our skeletons are completely replaced every revolution. It’s not hard to believe Joe found a way to replicate, then alter the natural process. God knows, I’m a shining example of that.”

The Omorr studied the vid screen. “How long do these chameleon cells remain viable?”

“I don’t know. The original plan was to have them degrade like blood cells. Feasible for one hundred and twenty days, tops.”

“Then they should not be present in my body.”

We both turned around to see my bare-chested husband standing behind us. When I saw the color of his eyes-the same shade ice crystals had when they formed on steel-I swore under my breath. “Reever, we don’t have conclusive evidence of any of this. I need to do more tests.”

“You have the biopsy sample.” He pulled his tunic over his head. “I must report for duty.”

“Duncan-” I got up from my chair, but he was already gone. “
Damn
it. I didn’t want him to hear it that way!”

“
Adoren
!”

Garphawayn hopped through the main entrance to Medical and planted herself in the center of the bay. Squilyp sighed before going over to greet her, but she was having none of that.

“Do you realize it has been two hours since we were to dine together in that communal trough area?”

Adaola came over to stand beside me. “The Senior Healer’s Chosen?”

“Uh-huh.” I finished downloading the remainder of the data on Reever’s kidney. “Looks like something that would eat her own young, doesn’t she?”

“Healer!” The intern tried to sound scandalized, but ruined it by giggling. “She is very loud with her opinions, I think.”

“Yeah. The sonic cannons are getting jealous.”

The female Omorr was still ranting about proper meal intervals and how much she disliked being kept waiting while I tried to signal Reever. His assistant in Command promised to pass along my messages, so I concluded he was actively avoiding me.

Finding out Joseph had experimented on me had made me run away from Terra. What would it do to my husband?

In frustration, I went to work on the other scheduled cases, and noticed that one member of the sojourn team had still not come in for his physical. “Signal Hawk for me, if you would, and have him report to Medical immediately.”

“I tried to do so, several times this week,” Adaola told me. “He has not responded to any of my relays.”

I hadn’t seen him around the ship lately, either. Stubborn Terran males were almost as annoying as their female Omorr counterparts. “Okay, let me go round him up. I’ll be right back.”

Politely, I waited until Squilyp’s fiancée paused for breath before I let the Senior Healer know where I was headed.

“Very well,” Squilyp said. “I will wait until you return.”

“I have been kept waiting long enough! Send one of the servants!” Garphawayn motioned toward the nurses.

“They’re not servants,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Why don’t you sit down for a few minutes until I get back? I’m sure your mouth could use a rest.”

“How dare you!” The pink-faced Omorr went purple. “I refuse to take that sort of insolence from you, you-”

“Rude, ungracious, unpolished, discourteous, and impolite Terran female. I know. You’ve told me. Frequently.” I stalked off to the door panel. “Good thing we’re not getting married, huh?”

I calmed down by the time I reached Hawk’s quarters, and even felt a little ashamed of myself. My personal dislike of Garphawayn wasn’t making things easier for Squilyp, who had evidently fallen head over heel for her. It was possible Lady Cestes was feeling defensive, being alone on a ship surrounded by strangers. I pressed the door panel chime, wondering if some candid girl talk might help make the Omorr lady feel a little more at home.

If that doesn’t work, I can always sedate her
.

No answer from Hawk. I checked the panel, and saw from the interior sensor sweep that he was inside. Why wouldn’t he answer the door? I punched in audio, and said, “Hawk? It’s Cherijo. Let me in. I want to talk to you.”

There was no response. Fearing the worst, I input my emergency medical override code, and manually keyed the door to open.

A faint waft of smoke swept over my face as the panel slid to one side, revealing complete darkness. I squinted, trying to see. Were the optic emitters malfunctioning? “Hawk?”

The door panel slid shut, about the same time a strong hand grabbed me by the throat and hauled me inside. “Did they send you?”

I clawed at his fingers, trying to get enough oxygen to reply. “Hawk… let… go…”

Abruptly he released me, muttered something, then switched on the lights.

I rubbed my throat and blinked. The
hataali
stood naked but for a stained piece of linen wrapped around his hips. He’d yanked out most of his chest feathers, judging by the condition of the swollen, bleeding follicles, and smeared himself with a moldy-looking yellow substance. The smell of that, combined with his body odor and oily hair, told me he hadn’t deconned since returning from Taercal.