Omega Games (22 page)

“I saw the relay,” Posbret said. “Why did he offer it in the first place?” A very good question, I thought, trying to formulate a reasonable response. “Davidov blockaded Trellus to keep the killer from escaping,” Reever said. “He used the bounty to find

us, lured us here, and deliberately stranded us. He believes that we can find your killer, and stop it.”

“We’ve been looking for the fucking thing for a year,” Posbret snarled. “What does he think you can do?” “I don’t know,” Reever admitted. “My wife has successfully solved many crises on other worlds. Maybe

Davidov believes she can do the same here. His motives are not our concern. We’ll do whatever we can

to help you.” “Then you’re a fool, Terran.” The raider leader’s perfect lips formed a ghastly grin. “Because the only thing you’re going to do down here is die.”

Twelve

Once the raiders left the dome, Drefan sent a maintenance crew to repair and reinforce the air lock they had blasted out, and had two of his drones escort my spleen patient back to the simward. The games master suggested that I continue with my exams of his staff.

Reever, I saw, had disappeared again. “Would you ask my husband to signal me when he has finished in the sparring room?” I asked Keel, who nodded. I turned to Drefan. “You can come with me.” His brows arched. “For what reason?”

“You’re the first one I’m going to examine.” Instead of protesting, Drefan silently accompanied me to the room I had been using for exams, and deftly hoisted his body out of the chair and onto the table.

“I should tell you before we begin,” he said, “that I’m not as pleasant to look at as the Gnilltak.” “I’m not interested in your personal beauty,” I advised him. “Can you undress without assistance? ” “It was the first skill I taught myself after losing my limbs.” He released the fasteners on his tunic, baring a

wide, heavily muscled chest with a row of crude-looking dark blue symbols forming a circular pattern over his heart.

“This part says ‘one-one-six-nine-four-seven-one, ’ ” he told me, pointing to the upper portion of the symbols. “Slaves are not permitted the privilege of names. The two side rows are my original owner’s identification and contact code. I didn’t bring much at auction, so he didn’t bother with a locator implant.”

He spoke of his enslavement as if it meant nothing to him. “And the bottom row?”

He ran a thumb over the symbols. “Certification that my second owner set me free.”

I passed a scanner over him while I surveyed the condition of his arm and leg stumps. “Were your amputated limbs severed, diseased, or damaged?”

“They were crushed,” he told me. “An unbalanced load of raw ore fell on top of me.”

My scanner showed an elevated level of arutanium in his blood, and hundreds of minute fragments of the alloy embedded in his shoulder and hips. I also found traces of it in his bones, teeth, and hair. “You should be dead, Games Master.”

He chuckled. “You’re reading the metal inside me, I take it.”

“Yes, and there is enough inside you to build a few drones.” I had never examined a living being with such levels of the poisonous alloy. “Your accident could not have caused it to leech into your bones.”

“That happened before I was flattened.” His blue eye gleamed. “I became immune to arutanium while I worked in the mines. Breathing in the dust all day does that to you, if it doesn’t kill you first.”

To build up that kind of resistance would have required an extended exposure under extreme working conditions, perhaps for years. “How often were you exposed to the ore dust?”

“For the entire length of my enslavement in the mines.” He closed his eye. “Or, to be more precise, five standard years, eight months, fourteen days, ten hours, and six minutes.”

I set my scanner aside and use my penlight to examine the crater where his other eye should have been. There were odd calluses around the edge of the smooth socket. I found more just like them on his temples and the bridge of his nose. “Do you wear something over your face on a frequent basis?”

“I use a welding shield when I work on the drednocs. ” His eye shifted as he studied my face. “Your eyes are dark blue. I had thought they were black, like your hair.”

I rolled him onto his side, and immediately wished that I hadn’t. So many healed lash marks crisscrossed his back that it appeared corrugated. A dozen small craters dotted the vicious scars indicated where chunks of his flesh had been torn out. Here and there were raised, shiny stripes that appeared to be healed burns.

He had been beaten, repeatedly, almost to death. I had never seen anything like it.

I tried three times to speak before the words came out of my mouth. “How was this done to you?”

“The mine guards favored pulse-spike whips,” Drefan said. “They’re ten feet long, made of flexible alloy cable, and barbed with four-pronged metal orbs. They can be programmed to deliver an adjustable charge through the length of the cable, if a slave deserves extra punishment.” He moved his shoulders. “I usually did.”

“I warned you that I wasn’t pretty,” Drefan said as I sniffed and checked the alignment of his cervical vertebrae. “Don’t cry, Cherijo.”

“I am not crying. I am only a little congested.” I rested a hand on his shoulder as I tried to control my emotions. “I was a field surgeon during a war. I have seen the violence that men can inflict on each other, but this . . .” I stopped and took in a shuddering breath. “Did they punish the ones responsible for abusing the miners?”

His voice went soft and flat. “Not enough.”

A week later I had finished the examinations at Mercy House, and had only one more to perform at Gamers. I had found no trace of the Odnallak or the skin thief among those I examined, and the days I spent working passed without incident. Cat told me that they had never gone so long without a colonist disappearing or a skin being found, something that was rapidly improving the mood around the domes.

“I’ve received dozens of signals requesting appointments to see you,” he added as he escorted me to the air lock on my way to Gamers one evening. “People think you’re doing something to keep the shifter from taking more skins.”

“If only I could take credit for that.” I took my case from him and shouldered it. “I hope you are correcting their assumptions.”

“I’ve tried.” He glanced at the drednoc waiting to take me across the access way. “I haven’t seen Reever since the raiders tried to grab your ship.”

I had been sharing my time between the two domes equally, but Drefan insisted I spend my nights at Gamers. Reever remained there to supervise repairs to the scout and practice in the sparring simulator, but despite the nights and days I spent there, we barely saw each other.

Reever was avoiding me.

My husband rose and left our rooms before I woke, and rarely returned until I fell asleep at night. I waited up for him, several times, hoping to talk and settle the argument over the chameleon cells and Marel. Reever simply left as soon as he saw that I was awake.

Now I offered Cat the same excuses I had been telling myself. “He has been busy working on the ship and practicing for the fight.”

Cat’s dark eyes narrowed. “What fight?”

“A simulation. It is something Drefan wishes him to do.” I wished I could confide in Cat. Still, Reever’s debt to Drefan was nearly settled. I would not jeopardize that. “I must go. I will return in the morning.”

The drednoc accompanied me through the access way to Gamers and left me at the air lock. I thought it was odd that the battle drone never used the same entrance as I did, but perhaps Drefan had it go to where he kept his other drones.

“Good evening, Cherijo,” Keel said as I came out of biodecon. The Chakacat had made a habit of meeting me whenever I returned from Mercy House. “Drefan wondered if you were able to finish the exams of Mercy’s staff.”

“Now.” Keel looked uneasy. “That could be a problem.” “Keel, Drefan wished me to examine his entire staff. Yet he continues to stall me when I ask to see Tya. If he does not wish me to check her, just say so.”

“It’s not that.” The Chakacat looked around before lowering its voice. “We keep her in a secured area,

and Drefan doesn’t like to let her out often.” “I can examine her there, if you wish,” I offered, mimicking its tone. “Only tell me first why we are whispering about her.”

“Drefan,” it said, as if that explained everything. More of his games, no doubt. “Take me to her, Keel.” The secured area turned out to be a modified detention unit, hidden in the back of one unused section of

a storage area. Keel held me back as it opened the door panels.

“Inhibitor webbing,” it said, pointing to the energized mesh filling the entry. “Tya, I’m bringing the healer in to see you.” No reply came from the dark room. “I will need some lights,” I told the Chakacat as it deactivated the webbing and pulled it aside. Cool air

washed over me as I entered and Keel enabled the cell’s overhead emitters. The Hsktskt lay on two berths that had been welded together to accommodate her ten-foot-long body.

She wore a thin white tunic and a modified skirt that covered her lower limbs and tail. Alloy restraints held down her other limbs. She appeared to be asleep. “Stay here.” Keel moved a little closer. “Tya, the healer has come to check you.” Two lids retracted from a yellow eye as big as my face. “It is not time to fight,” she said, her voice

scraping out of her throat.

I saw the dryness of her skin and the dark depressions under her eyes and around her nostrils. “Why is she so thin and dehydrated?” “I don’t know. She has food and water.” Keel gestured to a prep unit that had been installed in the cell.

“Although, to be honest, I’ve never seen her using it.” I went over to check the unit. “She’s not using it.” My skin shivered with delicious pleasure as frigid air

poured down on me from an overhead vent. Such low temperatures could be lethal to Hsktskt. “This cell is too cold for her.” “They think it controls me,” Tya said, and ripped the restraints from one arm, and then the other. With a

few more jerks she was able to free herself and roll off the berth. I watched her rise and touch the back of her neck. “Like the straps. And the food.” She bent, shaking, and braced herself against one wall. Her frame appeared very thin for a Hsktskt. “Keel, get her some water. Now.” I put my medical case on the berth. “Sit down before you fall down,

Tya did so, and the berth creaked. “I have no rank, warm-blood. Did the cripple not tell you so?” “The cripple does not talk a great deal about you.” I took out a scanner and passed it in front of her chest. She was at least seventy-five kilos lighter than she should have been, and her stomach and

digestivesystem were completely empty, explaining the gauntness of her form. “Why are you starving yourself?” Tya opened her mouth and displayed triple rows of sharp, serrated-edged teeth. “I don’t want that

food.” “I suppose I can install a feeding tube in your gullet.” I took a syrinpress, dialed up a massive dose of

reptilian nutrients, and infused her with them. I looked over at Keel. “Have you programmed that unit for a Hsktskt diet?” The Chakacat brought a server of water to me. “Yes. That’s all that’s on the menu.” I offered Tya the server. When she didn’t move to take it, I said, “I can also start an IV, if you like.” She took the server, drank the contents in one swallow, and handed it back to me. “Leave me.” “I must examine you.” I glanced at Keel. “Would you wait outside, please?” Agitation made the Chakacat’s whiskers twitch. “Healer, I do not think that is advisable.” “If she intends to harm me,” I pointed out, “she will do it whether you are here or not.” Tya lay back on the berth and closed her eyes. “The warm-blood is safe with me, little cat.” “I’ll be just outside here if you need me, Healer.” Keel left with great reluctance. As I scanned Tya, I studied her outward appearance. Even the Hsktskt rogues on Vtaga, who rarely had

enough to eat, had not been so emaciated.

“Why do you not eat?” I asked her. Before she answered,I added, “If you will not tell me the truth, I will recommend to Drefan that we put you on a feeding tube.” She didn’t look at me. “The food here is repulsive. ” “I agree, but for now there is no alternative to synth.” She didn’t respond to that. “My knowledge of

Hsktskt cuisine is limited, but if you do not care for what is programmed on the prep unit, I can ask Keel to—” “Vegetables.” I frowned. “What about them?”

“I eat vegetables and fruit,” she said gruffly. “Not synpro.” I had never heard of a Hsktskt who did not eat meat. “Did your former owner refuse to feed you protein?” She remained silent. “Very well, I will have Keel program the unit to provide fruits and vegetables.”