Dream Called Time (7 page)

I glanced at the water, and then walked slowly back to the glidecar with my oKiaf brother.

Five

I expected to see a lot of Jorenians inside the stately building that served as the Center for Planetary Peace, but when Shon and I entered the reception area, we were greeted by only one young male wearing a fitted gray robe over a white tunic and black trousers. His attire seemed so unusual for a Jorenian—all the HouseClans had vivid, distinct colors that they used in everything from decor to garments—that I couldn’t help staring a little.

“I am Apalo Adan, Healer Torin.” He made a modified version of the elaborate formal gesture of greeting between members of different Houses. “On behalf of the Adan, I welcome you to the capital.”

“I’m happy to be here.” I covered the lie with a smile as I introduced Shon. “Is everyone here, or are we early?”

“The Hsktskt delegation and our negotiators are presently in conference on the summit level.” He gestured toward a lift. “Would you care to rest after your journey? We have arranged rooms for you and Healer Valtas at the pavilion.”

I almost leapt at the chance to put off seeing the Hsktskt dressed in my dead lover’s DNA, which made me all the more determined to get it over with. “No, I think I’ve kept them waiting long enough.”

Apalo’s eyes gleamed with discreet approval. “Then if you please will accompany me?”

The lift took us to the top floor of the building—where else would they have put a summit level?—and opened to a gallery of Jorenian sculptures of various historic figures, all carved from gleaming sapphire-colored stone in life-sized proportions. Most were in benign poses, but here and there were famous warriors armed to the teeth, claws extended, and looking as if ready to disembowel someone.

“Impressive,” Shon murmured, pausing to study a statue of Tarek Varena, sculpted in an attack stance over a fallen enemy.

“Sure,” I muttered back. “If you like serial killers.”

Shon eyed me. “Tarek Varena effectively put an end to the ancient territorial wars between the HouseClans.”

“Which he did by one hundred straight days of single-handed combat in the quad, during which he slaughtered the best warriors from every House on Joren,” I reminded him. “I think the final count was somewhere around six hundred, seven hundred men?”

“I approve only of his results, Healer,” the oKiaf said. “Not his methods.”

“Good,” I replied. “Now stop admiring his statue so we can get on with this.”

Beyond the gallery was a large, formal area with a single long, wide table interspersed with dimensional image projectors set into its surface. At that moment several holoimages of Jorenian anatomy were being projected. These were being studied and discussed by the twenty or so Jorenian physicians present and several Hsktskt in Faction uniforms. Everyone stopped talking as soon as we stepped into view, and the oldest of the physicians politely rose to her feet.

“Healer Torin, welcome.” She came around the table to finish the greeting and clasp my hands in Terran fashion. “I am Healer Apalea. I trust my ClanSon has inquired after your needs?”

I smiled at Apalo. “He’s been terrific.” I didn’t want to look at the Hsktskt, but one tall female had gotten up from the table and was heading toward us. In a lower voice, I asked, “How are things going with them?”

“The path has not been the smoothest,” Apalea admitted. “The Faction representatives have not yet accustomed themselves to speaking to humanoids as equals.”

For centuries the Hsktskt had regarded warm-blooded species as inferior and fit only for enslavement or execution. Even with all that Jarn had done to save their species, I had doubted they would completely abandon their prejudices.

Apalea turned to the Hsktskt female as she joined us. “Healer ChoVa, I believe you know Healer Torin.”

“As her designate, very well.” ChoVa bowed toward me while letting her head fall back, which was a public declaration of regard and respect.

It took me a moment to process what she’d said. “My God. You’re little ChrreechoVa.” I noticed the medical emblem on her tunic. “I’ll be damned. You kept your promise to become a physician.”

“I always keep my word, Namesake.” She straightened and inspected my face. “We were told of your return, but I was not certain I believed it to be true until now.” The forked end of her black tongue tasted my air. “You are as I remember you on Catopsa. Not at all like the other who wore your hide.”

“I will take that as a compliment, thank you.” I introduced Shon, who was polite but distant. “Where is this alterformed male you want to tinker with?”

“I am here.”

He came to stand beside ChoVa, and when I looked into his face, I felt as if I’d been punched in the belly. Seven feet tall, matte black hair, smooth blue skin. Four parallel scars that scored one of his lean cheeks, and a purple streak blazed in his black hair, but other than that, he was the image of Kao Torin, right down to the gleam of humor in his white-within-white eyes.

“Well, hello.” Emotion welled up inside me as I took him in. “You have a nice face.”

“It is too blue. I feel exposed without my scales. But these work well enough.” He smiled, and showed Kao’s perfect white teeth, filed down to sharp points.

The unsightly alteration to his dentition instantly shattered the illusion, which allowed me to get hold of myself and offer my hand. “You’re called PyrsVar, is that right?”

“Yes.” He handled the Terran gesture of greeting without a hitch, and didn’t crush my fingers in his. I noted that his skin was several degrees cooler than a Jorenian’s should have been. “And you are Cherijo.”

“It is not proper to use family names among the warm-bloods until you are invited to do so,” ChoVa chided him. To me she said, “He is yet learning how to conduct himself around your kind.”

“Oh, yes.” PyrsVar rotated his eyes in a distinctly un-Jorenian fashion. “One must not utter insults, or make unguarded gestures. One must not offer an opinion on warm-blooded matters. Now one must not use the wrong name, however many there are.” He grinned again. “One has not yet mastered the ridiculousness of diplomacy and protocol.”

“One could have remained behind on the ship,” ChoVa said sharply, “performing maintenance on the lavatory and atmospheric-control units.”

“When one is the primary reason for the sojourn?” PyrsVar made a scoffing sound. “I think not.”

Although they sounded like bickering adolescents, and behaved as if they disliked each other intensely, I had the feeling there was more to these two than what I was seeing. Even sniping at each other, they seemed comfortable, like old friends.

“From what the Torin told me, the Hsktskt are interested in reversing the bioengineering performed on PyrsVar.” When ChoVa nodded, I glanced at the console. “Would you mind giving us a quick overview of what you’ve discussed so far?”

That sent everyone back to the console table, and Apalea seated Shon and me in the center before running through a series of holoimages that had been provided by the delegation. I had to force myself not to stare at the Hsktskt who had been so drastically alterformed. He might have changed his teeth and picked up some scars, but there was still far too much of my lost love in the set of his expressions, and the elegant, purposeful way he moved.

He’s not Kao. He’s a lizard wearing his stolen cloned body.

“Four years ago unknown methods were used to transform PyrsVar’s body from that of a healthy adult Hsktskt male to a duplicate of Kao Torin,” Apalea told me. “After capturing the private facility where these procedures were carried out, the Hanar’s forces were able to recover some information from the medical database, but much of it was destroyed during the final battle.” She brought up a holoimage of a young Hsktskt adult male.

“That is as I was born,” PyrsVar said, inclining his head toward the projection. “Hsktskt. Pure of blood. Clear of thought.”

“Simple of mind,” I heard ChoVa mutter.

“What sort of information did they recover?” I asked Apalea.

“Not a great deal, Healer. Some charted entries and assessment scans on the progression of the alterformation.” She pulled up a second image of PyrsVar in Hsktskt form, only now with new, blue skin that was visibly shedding scales. A third showed the beginnings of soft-tissue and musculature changes to his head, torso, and limbs. “There were no details regarding the process used to transform PyrsVar. The healer who experimented on him may have refrained from keeping notes or destroyed them once the process was completed in order to safeguard his methods.”

“He wasn’t a healer,” I said, thinking of SrrokVar and the monster he had been. I looked at ChoVa. “I assume you’ve run some comprehensive scans to determine what percentage of his anatomy is currently affected.”

She nodded. “The outward appearance is that of a Jorenian, but this is deceptive. His internal systems were actually augmented rather than altered, so he possesses both Jorenian and Hsktskt organs. He has also retained certain congenital aspects of bone structure and musculature.”

From what I knew of the two species, that was on the order of a miracle. “He shouldn’t have been able to merge the two physiologies. Hsktskt and Jorenians can’t produce children.” I glanced at Apalea. “Can they?”

“There is no record of a Jorenian/Hsktskt hybrid,” she said, shifting in her seat. “However, we know from the members of HouseClan Kalea that certain other reptilian species like the Tingalean and the Korpa are capable of siring children with our females.”

“The Korpa are completely different from the Hsktskt, but the Tingaleans . . .” I paused to consider and compare the anatomical details. “There is a remote possibility, then.”

“PyrsVar proves that it can be done, Healer.” ChoVa gestured to the living, breathing paradox in the room. “Genetic scans indicate that SrrokVar did not recombine the DNA from each species, but forced them onto the body, which he used as both a scaffold and an incubator. Based on the internal scarring, I believe that he first grew the Jorenian organs inside PyrsVar’s body, and once they were fully developed, he surgically integrated them.”

If he’d done that, he would have had to also force the body itself to accept . . . “Oh, God.” My eyes widened as the implications sank in. “ChoVa, please tell me that you continued administering the antirejection drugs.”

“As soon as we realized that his body was beginning to attack itself, I began a new regime of immunosuppressant.” She glanced at PyrsVar. “At present his systems are stable.”

There was more to it than that, and I sensed none of it was good, but I guessed she didn’t want to give me the bad news in front of him or the other delegates. Now I had to prod another sensitive area. “All right. What I need to know now is, why do the Hsktskt want to reverse-engineer the alterformation process? Or is it just this male?”

All the lizards looked at one another, as if waiting for someone else to spill the beans. ChoVa fiddled with the console. Apalea’s expression became strained.

“It is only me they wish to change,” PyrsVar said. “The Hanar does not wish me to breed as I am now. Nor do the warm-bloods. They will not say this to you for fear of offending each other and breaking the peace between our people.”

“Is he right?” I asked ChoVa and Apalea. Both females exchanged a long glance before the Jorenian said, “It would be best for both species if a third, hybrid species does not come into being.”

“You don’t have to go to all this trouble,” I said. “Sterilization will keep him from breeding.”

“Yes.” PyrsVar folded his arms. “But that is the thing that
I
will not allow them to do to me.”

Procreation was as important to the Hsktskt as it was to the Jorenians, but so were their cultural boundaries, so his attitude made no sense. “You’d rather risk your life?”

“Your brain problem prevents you from remembering what happened between us on Vtaga. I wish very much to have young.” He showed me again how he had ruined Kao’s teeth. “Had you not escaped me on Vtaga, I would have taken you as my woman and bred you.”

Shon went rigid beside me. Apalea covered her eyes with her hand. Cho Va looked ready to save me a lot of trouble by killing the patient with her bare hands.

I did the sensible thing and laughed. “Given my unique physiology, Hsktskt, I think you would have found that a little more difficult than you imagine.”

He shrugged. “Then I would have found another female and kept you for my pleasure.”

Every female in the room looked appalled, but I had to chuckle again. “Thank you. I think. Is it absolutely necessary for us to go to all this trouble simply so that you can be a daddy?”

“Every being has the right to breed and secure the future,” he told me. “Now that my line has been restored to me by the Hanar, I wish to be as any other male, and have the life that SrrokVar stole from me.” He looked at his blue hands and their twelve fingers. “I cannot do that in this hide and with these parts.”

He sounded determined . . . and painfully young. “Have your people told you exactly how dangerous this kind of experiment is? It’s unprecedented, so we’ll have no set procedure to follow. It will definitely not be painless. We’ll do the best we can, but it’s almost certain that we will make some mistakes. In the end, this could cost you your life.”

“I survived this.” He made a fist and thumped it against the vault of his chest. “A life without a mate or young is pointless. I will have what was—I will be as I was—or die trying.”

In that moment I should have flatly refused. Undoing the genetic stew of his body promised to be a nightmare, and the odds were against his survival. An uncomfortable life was better than no life at all. He could find a tolerant mate; they could adopt young.

But I also knew how strong the desire to have a child was. After he had Chosen me, Kao and I had shared our dreams of someday having a family together. Later, after I discovered that my hypervigilant immune system would spontaneously abort any pregnancy, I’d taken extreme measures to save the fetus that Reever and I had conceived together.

“Be sure this is what you want,” I told PyrsVar. “I can almost guarantee you that any separation we attempt will not be reversible.”