Reever didn’t say a word to me as we went to the conference room where Squilyp was waiting for us. He seemed tense and unhappy, not that I cared.

“Did you bring me the data on the alterformation cases treated on Joren?” I asked after greeting my friend.

“I have it here, but there is something else we must discuss. Sit down, both of you.” Squilyp stood behind the console until we did, and then punched up a holoprojection of two human brains illuminated by tiny blue veins and minuscule flashes of bright blue light. “This”—he indicated the right image—“is a scan I made yesterday of the synaptic activity from your brain, Cherijo.”

I folded my arms. “Why?”

“I wished to map your higher-level functions so that I might identify any areas of the mind that are not being utilized.”

“I don’t see any,” I said.

“Neither did I, on your scan or this one.” He turned to the left image. “This, in fact, shows the exact same patterns of activity, which indicate brain function was not compromised by the head injury.”

“If you have a point, Senior Healer,” Reever said, “I would appreciate you making it.”

“Observe.” Squilyp tapped the console, and the two images merged, overlapping each other. “Do you see any variation in the pattern?”

“Why would we?” I countered. “They’re synchronous. Which means they’re identical.”

He nodded. “The left image shows the same activity because it is your brain, Cherijo.”

“That’s terrific.”I got to my feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I really have to—”

“The second image of your brain was scanned a year ago.” The Omorr paused. “From Jarn.”

I sat back down as the implications sank in. “There are variations; you’re just not seeing them.”

“I ran both scans through the neuroanalyzer,” Squilyp said gently. “There are none.”

“Run it again,” I suggested through my teeth. “Use a different medsysbank.”

“I ran it through four.”

I glared at him. “Is this some type of new therapy? You lying to me, too?”

Reever looked at me and then the Omorr. “I do not understand.”

“Thought processes are like Terran fingerprints, or Hsktskt scale patterns, or oKiaf fur coloration. They are unique to the individual,” Squilyp said. “Two different people cannot display the exact same synaptic activity. It is impossible.”

Reever eyed the overlapping images. “Jarn and Cherijo shared the same body, the same brain.”

“But not the same thoughts, the same language, or the same memories,” I tagged on. “We had the same brain but different minds. There can be similarities, but not exact synchronicity.” He still didn’t get it. “What Squilyp is trying to tell us is that—synaptically speaking, anyway—Jarn and I are the same person.”

“You are not.”

“Exactly. Nice try, Squid Lips.” I jumped up and headed for the door panel.

“In a recovery state, a patient who has experienced massive neural-tissue destruction will form a new persona in response to its environment,” the Omorr called after me.

I whirled around. “Then how do you explain me?”

“I cannot,” he admitted. “But I can confirm that you suffered severe memory repression. Think on the stressors involved. You witnessed the Jado Massacre. You were abducted and enslaved. You were nearly killed in the crash on Akkabarr. You believed Reever and Marel were dead, and when that native shot you, you must have wanted—”

“You shut up.” I strode toward the console. “I’m not a coward. I’ve never run from anything in my life. I would never have done this to myself.”

“You were alone, terribly injured, and left to survive in a hostile environment.” His gildrells drooped. “Cherijo, you did not do this. Your body did.”

I leaned in. “Do me a favor, Squid Lips. Go back to Omorr. See your mate and your sons. Enjoy your life, and forget about this.” I straightened and looked at Reever. “We’re done here.”

Reever maintained his silence as we retrieved Marel and returned to the HouseClan pavilion. My daughter offered me a distant greeting, and a polite peck on the cheek. She also responded politely to my questions about their journey and her opinions of the capital, but resentment glittered in her eyes and had erased her usual cheerful attitude.

If she’s still that way, I amended silently. I could see that someone Jorenian had taught her manners, and she remained well-spoken for her age, but other than that, I knew next to nothing about my own child.

Except that she didn’t want to be here.

Shon remained with me as I took my family to my quarters, and then asked to have a private word with me before he left. I didn’t consult Reever, but stepped out into the corridor with the oKiaf and let the panel close behind me.

“If you wish to change your accommodations,” Shon said in a low tone, “I will give you my quarters and stay in one of the halo hostels.”

“He’ll just come after me again.” I checked the time on my wristcom. “Reever and I have to settle some things. Get something to eat, come back in an hour, and then we’ll head over to the medical facility.”

He wanted to argue with me—I could see that—but I think he also realized I needed to do this. Finally he touched my shoulder and then left.

Back inside my quarters, I heard Reever speaking to Marel in the spare sleeping chamber. His voice sounded firm, while hers was definitely tearful. I caught only a couple snatches of the conversation, but it soon became apparent that she wanted to go back to the Torins. Reever reassured her, and once I was pretty sure I heard her sobbing into his tunic, but he didn’t give in to her.

He emerged ten minutes later and joined me at the dining table, where I was transferring a few things from my garment bag into my medical case.

“She is sleeping,” he told me.

“Good.” I slipped the datapad Squilyp had given me with all the records he had gathered on alterform procedures into my case and closed it. “Are you hungry? I’ll make you something to eat before I leave.”

“Why did you abandon us?” he demanded.

“Abandon.” I paused on my way to the prep unit and then kept walking. “You know, if you don’t want to take another bath in my tea, you should try re-phrasing that.”

He didn’t have the good sense to keep his distance, but came over and stood beside me at the menu panel. “Why did you run away from me and our daughter?”

“I didn’t run anywhere.” I dialed up a bowl of vegetarian chili and a thin, crusty Jorenian morning bread that I thought would go well with it. “Shon Valtas and I came by glidecar to the capital to meet with the Hsktskt. He operated the vehicle; I sat and watched the scenery through the viewer.” I carried my food over to the table. “Did you feed Marel before you left Marine province?”

“Yes. Sit down.” He waited until I did and then took a moment to compose himself before he continued. “When I returned and found you gone again, I was very angry. I wanted to find you.” He looked back at the closed panel to Marel’s room before he added in a lower voice, “I wanted to punish you.”

I took a bite of my bread. “And you thought you’d bring our kid here to watch you do it? My, my. Is this really your idea of quality parenting, Reever?”

“When TssVar freed me from the slavers’ arena, I swore never again to resort to violence against a helpless being.” He leaned down. “You made me forget that. You made me want to beat you. As you do now.”3

“You should hear some of my newer fantasies,” I confided casually. “With a lascalpel, full body restraints, and my anatomical knowledge?” I shook my head. “I could introduce you to realms of pain that you haven’t even dreamt of, pal.”

“I would never lift a hand in anger against you, Cherijo.” He straightened. “Just as you would never harm me.”

I shrugged. He was right, but I had no problem with letting him worry a little. “Meeting with Squilyp put me behind schedule, and I have to eat and get ready for work. Can you talk a little faster?”

He sat down beside me. “I do not completely understand human emotion, but I do know about its absence. If I had no feelings for you, Wife, I would not care where you went or what you did.”

I tested my chili, but it was still a little too hot to eat. “Did I ever explain to you the Terran allegory of the dog in the manger? No? It’s pretty simple: You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me. So until you accept that I don’t belong to you, you’re going to continue to do stupid things like this out of anger and misplaced possessiveness. No doubt you will wreck my life—again—and make me and our daughter and yourself miserable in the process.”

His eyes had shifted to such a dark color of gray they looked black now. “You truly believe that I have ruined your life?”

“I guess I could be wrong. Let’s review exactly what you have done to me for the last ten years,” I said, using my fingers to tick off each point. “You took control of my body on K-2. You lied to me about who you were. You arranged for me to deliver a killer’s quintuplets at gunpoint. You lied about your friendship with him. You forced sex on me in order to infect me with a killer plague. You pretended to join a ship’s crew in order to stalk me. You arranged a Hsktskt invasion of Joren just to capture me. You enslaved me and forced me to practice medicine on other slaves. You left me to rot as an alien-possessed slave on an ice world. Oh, and then you cheated on me with the bitch who took over my body for five years.” I had run out of fingers, so I looked up at him. “Did I miss anything?”

“You know the reasons behind my actions,” he said through his teeth. “Everything I did, I did out of love for you.”

“But, Reever, I have it on very good authority that you never loved me.” I smiled brightly at him. “Evidently you were just killing time and having gratuitous sex with me while you were waiting for Jarn to show up.”

Something glittered in his eyes. “Who told you this?

“You did.” I nodded toward the room terminal. “Replay the disc that’s sitting in the scanner. You’re going to love the ending.”

Reever went over and switched on the replay. He stood watching until the vid showed him and Jarn beginning to make love, and then shut it off. “Who gave you this?”

“I don’t know. I found it stuck in my garment case.” Here was my supreme moment, the wronged wife triumphant, and yet I couldn’t feel anything. I was numb from the heart up. “The graphics are pretty wonderful, don’t you think? Did she like to be on top all the time, or just when you were doing it outside in the dirt?”

He stared at me, furious and appalled, unable to speak.

“It’s okay, Reever. I don’t really need to know.” I propped an elbow on the table and rested my cheek against my hand as I watched him. “The good thing is that now I completely understand why you were so upset over losing Jarn. After all, she was the only woman you’ve ever loved.”

“You were never meant to hear what I said to her.” He strode over to me. “Cherijo, I am convinced that Xonea did this to break our bond, so he can Choose you for himself.”

“There is no bond. Maybe if you had been honest with me from the beginning, I might have had a chance to have a normal relationship with someone else. Who knows? Maybe even with Xonea.” I looked into his eyes. “At least he’s always loved me.”

He turned his face away. “You will never forgive me for what I said.”

“I’m afraid that was pretty unforgivable,” I agreed. “But you can do something to make it up to me.”

Now he looked at me. “What?”

“Take Marel and go back to Marine province.” When he tried to speak, I held up one hand. “Our kid doesn’t want to be here; she doesn’t know me and she’s mourning Jarn. She misses her Jorenian family and friends. You have no reason to stay married to me; you never did. There is nothing to salvage here. So just take her and go.”

“I cannot leave you like this, not after what Squilyp said.”

“The Omorr is wrong. I’m fine. I have friends here, and plenty of work to do. I don’t need you hovering over me, waiting for me to have a psychotic break.” When I saw him reaching for me, I shook my head. “Don’t.”

His hand fell to his side. “I will do as you ask.”

“Great.” I stirred my spoon around the server. “Are you sure you don’t want something from the unit?”

“I know you are not as calm as you pretend to be.” He sounded tired. “You are hurt and confused. You are afraid. I will send Marel back to the Torins, but let me stay. Let me help you.”

“Reever, if I were on fire, I wouldn’t ask you to spit on me.” I tried another spoonful, found the temperature had grown tolerable, and began to eat.

He sat and waited for me to finish, but when I got up and tidied the servers, he seemed to run out of patience. “When will we see you again?”

“I’ll come over and visit in a couple of weeks.” I went to change into some fresh garments, clean my teeth, and braid my hair. I didn’t hurry, and by the time I came out, Shon was waiting for me.

“Don’t let Marel sleep too long. She’ll be grumpy on the trip back.” I picked up my case. “Say hello to Salo and Darea for me.”

“This is not finished,” I heard him say as Shon and I walked out.

Oh yes, I thought, taking every bit of agony inside me and locking it away for good. It was.

Shon guided me to the physicians’ entrance, where a friendly receptionist scanned our wristcoms before directing us to an isolation ward on the top level.

“Why are they verifying identifications?” I asked the oKiaf in the lift. The last time I’d been on Joren, no one had asked me to prove who I was.

“Someone attempted to use a patient at a Torin medical facility as a bomb,” he said.

“Who were they trying to blow up?” When he gave me an ironic look, I groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“The device was deliberately sabotaged before it was implanted so that it could be discovered before it detonated,” he told me. “The mercenary who arranged it wanted Jarn and Reever to leave Joren so they could be forced to crash-land on Trellus.”

“Those little details weren’t in Xonea’s encrypted files.” I wondered what else had been omitted.

“Another version of the facts was presented to the Torins to avoid a subsequent invasion of Trellus. The colonists were shielded, but it would be best for everyone concerned if you discuss this matter only with Reever.” The lift came to a stop, but he put out a paw to stop me from exiting. “I have no wish to intrude on your personal life, but you cannot hide in your work to avoid settling matters with your mate.”

I smiled a little. “Oh, everything is settled now, Shon.”

On the isolation ward we found an entire staff of Jorenian healers and nurses busy arranging equipment and preparing different work areas. Apalea appeared to be supervising, but the delegation was absent, and ChoVa and PyrsVar were also nowhere to be seen.

“Where are my Hsktskt?” I asked the Senior Healer.

“The delegates are meeting with our ClanLeader to strike a formal agreement between our peoples.” She nodded toward the back of the ward. “The healer and her patient await you in assessment room one.” She handed a stack of surgical shrouds to a nurse before she added, “The Hsktskt healer seems somewhat agitated by the alterformed male.”

Poor Apalea, she hadn’t picked up on the underlying reason for that. “If we can restore him, they’ll probably mate.”

“Mother of all Houses.” Her eyes widened. “Here?”

I felt a surge of sour amusement. “I think we can persuade them to first return to Vtaga for the proper rituals.”

I asked Shon to inspect the surgical suite while I went to check on my patient and his healer. I found both sitting in silence; ChoVa read a chart while PyrsVar toyed with his vocollar. Neither of them would look at each other, and I saw why when I spotted a monitor array in pieces on the floor, and a tail-shaped dent in the wall.

“All right, children,” I said as I stepped in. “Before the Jorenians and the oKiaf join us, let’s get something straight.” I addressed ChoVa. “When you are on this ward, you are a physician, and my assistant. If you have a problem with the patient, you bring it to me.” As I heard PyrsVar make a snickering sound, I turned to him. “And you will cooperate and do as you’re told without giving me or Healer ChoVa any lip, or I will see to it that you’re realterformed into a mud-dwelling, slime-eating Ichthorii.”

“He will not follow my orders,” ChoVa told me, her tongue lashing the air between us. “He would rather behave like a youngling and destroy valuable equipment.”

“I did not care for the sounds it made,” the rogue snapped. “SrrokVar strapped me to a thing that made the same noise and left me to burn in my hide for three rotations.”

“The equipment can look and sound a little scary,” I agreed, “but we are going to try not to hurt you. If something causes you pain, all you have to do is tell us, and we’ll stop the procedure. Do you understand me?”

“He says he wants this, but he cannot control his temper,” I heard ChoVa mutter.

“Is that right?” I gestured to the wall. “What calm, levelheaded person in the room did that?”I dropped my hand and sighed. “This is going to be difficult for all of us. And remember, we’re the guests of a species with zero tolerance for bad tempers. If you threaten or cause harm to a member of the Jorenian staff, whether you mean it or not, they can declare ClanKill and use their claws to have you eviscerated alive—and I won’t be able to stop them.”

ChoVa grimaced, but PyrsVar looked down at his alterformed claws and then grinned at me. “I knew these had to be good for something.”

I decided the youngsters needed some time apart, and after I gave ChoVa the data I had obtained from Squilyp, I told her to download it into the ward’s database. PyrsVar I took across to the wardroom he would be occupying for the duration, and had him strip down to his skin while I prepared my scanners.

“I cannot wait to have my other limbs restored to me,” he said as he dropped his garments on the floor and stretched. “Four are not enough. Will you grow back what SrrokVar cut off?”

I glanced at the faint marks on his torso left by the amputation of two of his Hsktskt midlimbs. “We’ll see. Now lie down on that berth and relax.”

After taking his vitals, which were abnormal for both species, I began scanning at the top of his head and worked my way down to his chest.

His brain presented predominantly natal reptilian features and functions, and the few humanoid characteristics that had been added were mainly involuntary: the ability to produce his own body heat, adrenaline, sweat, and hair. When I got to his chest, however, I found two sets of cardiorespiratory systems, eight kidneys, a freakish-looking liver that appeared to be cobbled together from Jorenian and Hsktskt organs. And then there was the mystery mass that my scanner failed to identify.

I set the device aside and palpated a spot just to the bottom left of his chest plate.

He immediately scowled. “That hurts me.”

“I’m sorry.” I picked up my scanner again and studied the display before inspecting his hide. “Were you wounded in that place?”

“No. It has always been so, since my earliest memory.”

Whatever was inside him was congenital, and definitely of Hsktskt origin. It didn’t show any aspects indicating that it was a tumor or other form of malignancy. But with its complicated structures and vascular supply, and what looked like a rib it had at some time absorbed, it didn’t even vaguely resemble any of their organs on record.

I’d have to take a biopsy and determine exactly what it was before I decided if it needed to be safely removed along with the other, redundant Jorenian implants.

“Why do you make your face like that?” PyrsVar asked.

I saved the new data before I met his gaze. “You are the most complicated patient I have ever had.”

He flashed his pointed teeth. “No, I am simple. ChoVa has told me so, many times. Did her father ask you to kill me?”

“Let’s just say that he cares for his daughter more than he wants your throat cut.” I sat down on the edge of the berth. “PyrsVar, there is a group of crossbreeds on Joren who have formed their own HouseClan, the Kalea. All of them are like you: half Jorenian, half some other species. From what I’ve heard, at least two of them are part reptilian. It might be wise to take a trip to their territory and meet them.”

He looked puzzled. “You wish me to befriend these people?”

“Friendships can lead to other things,” I agreed. “As you are right now, you can walk out of here, live a seminormal life, and maybe, with a little luck and very selective mating, reproduce.”

“But not with a pure-blood Hsktskt female.”

“No.” I went ahead and gave him the second option. “I believe I can also perform some cosmetic procedures to alter your physical appearance to that of a Hsktskt, which would allow you to reside on Vtaga and blend in better with your natal species.”

“You mean you would not take out the Jorenian parts. You would only change my outsides.” He muttered something under his breath that sounded vicious.

I sighed. “There is no need to get agitated. As your doctor, it would be irresponsible of me to attempt a full restoration without first offering some safer alternatives.”

“I do not want safe,” he informed me. “I want ChoVa.” He seized my hand. “You will help make me worthy of her, so that her father does not slit my gullet, and she does not take another mate.”

“All right. If I couldn’t have my love, then maybe making it possible for my namesake to have hers would fill a little of the ragged hole in my heart. “I’ll try.”

Apalea had outdone herself in finding experienced professionals with backgrounds in genetics, reconstructive surgery, and hybrid physiology. Along with four other medical physicians of various specialties, I had six residents, ten interns, and a small horde of intensive care nurses.

After all the introductions had been made and work assignments handed out, I presented my preliminary scan results to the staff. The room fell quiet as I detailed the brutal amount of augmentation and alterformation that had been forced on PyrsVar, as well as some of my immediate concerns.

“Keeping him stable is our first priority, so your primary responsibility is to ensure that our patient remains on schedule with his meds,” I told the nurses. “If his regime is interrupted again, his immune system will revert to its natal functions again and begin attacking the Jorenian organs. Given the amount of damage the last episode caused, he probably won’t survive a repeat.”

One of the physicians, a healer who worked in pediatric genotherapy, made a polite gesture to catch my attention. When I nodded to her, she said, “Healer Cherijo, since the process used to alterform this male has been lost, how will we know how to proceed?”

“PyrsVar remembers what was done to him,” I told her. “He has no medical training, but already today I’ve learned that his midlimbs and tail were amputated before his remaining limbs were alterformed, and he was left in a dermal regenerating unit for three days.”

Several of the nurses looked shocked while the healers murmured among themselves.

“He wasn’t well treated by the psychopath who did this to him. He’ll never admit it, but he’s afraid. So when you work with this patient, take into consideration the amount of abuse he’s already suffered, and try to be gentle.” I turned to another resident who had gestured for my attention. “Yes?”

“That mass in the left lower quadrant”—he pointed to the odd organ I had discovered in PyrsVar’s chest—“does not have an apparent function. What is it?”

“I don’t know.” I glanced at ChoVa. “Were you able to identify it?”

“We did not recognize the mass, so we assumed it was Jorenian in pathology,” she replied.

That wasn’t good. “It scans as reptilian, not humanoid, on the cellular level. He claims to have had it since early childhood, perhaps birth.”

“May I, Healer?” Our pediatrician took my scanner and peered at the display. “These rows of echoes bisecting the central compartment suggest a pedunculated vertebrate tumor.”

“The fibrous membrane could be a chorioamnionic complex,” another healer put in. “The other incorporated structures are unfamiliar to me, but they appear similar to what is presented by a malformed monozygotic diamniotic parasite.”

“Fetus-in-fetu.” I nodded, and then caught Cho-Va’s blank look. “Hsktskt births are always multiple. PyrsVar must have absorbed another fetus while in utero.”

ChoVa’s jaw dropped. “He is impregnated with a sibling?”

“It happens.” To the curious interns, I said, “The fetus becomes embedded due to a repercussion of vitelline circulation anastomoses. The absorbed twin probably suffered a developmental delay which resulted in multiple reversed arterial perfusion syndrome.”

The pediatrician nodded. “We see the same mechanism at work in the gestation of acardiac twins. The reversal of the arterial flow retards the growth and cardiac development of the impaired twin, which is then embedded in the larger, stronger fetus.” She frowned. “Healer ChoVa, this condition should have been detected at birth and the mass excised from the patient’s chest. This disorder also becomes readily apparent from the parasite’s slow but continued growth and compression of the adjacent organs. He has likely been in pain his entire life. Why does this remain untreated?”

“The male is the offspring of a disgraced pariah. As such he had no recognized bloodline, and was not entitled to the rights and benefits afforded to our citizens.” ChoVa’s inner eyelids drooped. “Other than what was done to him during the alterformation process, this is the first time in his life he has received medical care.”

“I see.” The healer didn’t verbally express her contempt, but it was written all over her face.

“Many of my colleagues and I do not hold with our species’ custom of punishing the young for the crimes of their sires,” ChoVa said. “You are doubtless familiar with the cultural implications of disrupted or disgraced lineal status. For years your people were largely unsuccessful in integrating offspring of slave rape into your society.”

“We refer to them as ‘the ClanChildren of Honor.’” The healer’s disdain abruptly faded from her expression. “Your pardon, Healer ChoVa. Perhaps our people are more alike than either world cares to believe.”

“No one is seeing the value of this aberration,” I pointed out. When everyone looked at me, I added, “The fetus-in-fetu is a twin. It will contain the same DNA PyrsVar had when he was born. We can harvest the unadulterated genetic material we need directly from it.”

“How would you use it?” ChoVa asked.

“Rather than try to remove the Jorenian organs from the Hsktskt, we could infect them with a retroviral compound that would deliver the natal DNA and encode it into the Jorenian sequences.”

“That would work very quickly.” Apalea looked thoughtful. “But would the body be able to withstand such rapid transformation?”

“It’s worth exploring.” The room intercom chimed, and I went over to answer it. “Yes?”

“Healer Cherijo, we have received a summons from the Ruling Council,” Apalo told me. “They have requested that you attend them in chambers at once.”

Joren’s governing body probably wanted to be briefed on our project, but I still needed to run more tests and put together a tentative treatment plan. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“Stand by.” The intercom fell silent for a minute, and then Apalo’s voice returned. “The council members have received an interplanetary signal that requires your immediate attention, Healer.”

There goes my staff meeting, I thought glumly. “Very well. Tell them I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

I dismissed the off- duty staff for the rest of the day, wrote up quick orders for PyrsVar’s care, and left the ward in ChoVa’s capable hands. She and the pediatrician promised to run secondary scans on the fetus-in-fetu lodged in PyrsVar’s chest and determine if it could be removed without compromising the blood supply to the surrounding organs.

“Don’t tell him that he has a sibling in his chest,” I advised the Hsktskt healer. “He’s carrying around enough guilt.”

Shon joined me. “Are you leaving now?”

“Yes.” I started toward the lift, and then stopped to look back at him. “Where, exactly, is the Ruling Council?”

After a little bickering (I didn’t need an escort, the oKiaf didn’t want me going alone) Shon accompanied me to the council’s chambers, which were in a beautiful but tightly secured sector of the innermost halo. Built of neutral golden stone studded with panels of polished minerals from every inhabited province on Joren, the place looked like a small palace.

My admiration for the structure seemed to amuse the oKiaf. “You were chosen as a ruler of this world, and yet you have never once been in their chambers?”

“I’ve signaled them a few times.” I made an exasperated sound. “Back in those days I was busy being a doctor, and a fugitive, and a ship’s healer. Don’t even get me started on how time-consuming it is to be enslaved.”

“There are eleven seated members on the council,” he told me as he parked our glidecar in a designated area. “They are elected based on provincial governing experience; most are high-ranking members of their HouseClans. Three alternates also monitor every proceeding from their home provinces and participate when necessary. While you were away from Joren, one of the three would have voted in your stead.”

I’d never asked to be made a planetary ruler, so I didn’t feel bad about the lousy job I had done as a council member. Still, I felt a little uncomfortable with the way the security team grinned and greeted me as we stopped at three identification checkpoints on the way to the ruling chamber. At the final gate, six guards stood smiling but with weapons ready as Shon and I were scanned from head to footgear and our mouths swabbed.

I didn’t mind being searched, but I was never happy about giving up a DNA sample. When the guard verified we were genetically who we said we were, I asked for both our swabs back and dropped them into a small disposal unit.

The interior of the council chamber proved to be as interesting as the outer structure. Oversized screens encircled the room, and had been installed at an angled pitch so they could be easily viewed from the center platform. A long spiral of ClanSigns, one from every House on the planet, marched across the screens, and illuminated pedestals holding complex flower arrangements glowed underneath them.

The real show was on the center platform, a dais surrounded by gently sloping tiers of stone steps that ended at the edge of a polished expanse of old, scarred wood. The humble material used for the platform seemed out of place compared with the grandeur of the rest of the chamber, until I realized what it was.

“That’s the base of an old warrior quad, isn’t it?” I murmured to Shon.

He nodded. “It is the quad where Tarek Varena defended his honor.”

My stomach rolled—I wouldn’t have preserved a place where hundreds of men had been slaughtered—but I could see the symbolic power of it. Tarek Varena had not only created Jorenian path philosophy, he’d been responsible for instituting the first set of planetary laws. Without the hundred days he’d spent killing everyone who challenged him, there would be no HouseClans.

Atop the old warrior quad stood the eleven members of the Ruling Council, dressed in simple white robes with narrow belts woven from yiborra grass. The five women and six men had calm faces, and plenty of purple in their hair, one of the few signs of age among their species.

One of the women stepped forward. “Healer Torin, we thank you for attending us so quickly.”

“My pleasure, council member.” I glanced up as another Jorenian face appeared on the room’s screen panels. I recognized the handsome face and shrewd eyes of an old ally.

“Welcome back, Doctor,” Ambassador Teulon Jado said from the screens.

I knew from the records that the ClanLeader of the Jado had been sent to Akkabarr to be sold as a slave to the Toskald. There he had somehow escaped to the surface, and united the tribes of slaves left to die there into a rebel force. With their help, he had cobbled together a fleet out of the thousands of shipwrecks on the planet, and taught the tribesmen how to fly the ships. Then he had begun staging attacks against their former masters, the Toskald, until the surface rebellion had developed into a full-fledged war.

The rebellion had given Teulon direct access to secret bunkers on the surface, which contained weapons stores and the Toskald’s greatest advantage, crystals etched with command codes that gave him control over thousands of armies. He’d used the crystals to bring the Hsktskt and the League as well as the Toskald to their knees. His rebellion had been an engine of vengeance, a vehicle of justice for the Jado Massacre, but in the end he had used his power to force a peaceful end to the war.

Even I didn’t have to be told that he was the most admired man in the galaxy.

He looked as young and vigorous as any Jorenian male, his blue-skinned face austerely handsome and his long black hair coiled into a deceptively simple-looking warrior’s knot. But his eyes were another matter altogether; they spoke of his soul, one that had been battered and pushed to the brink of madness while witnessing unthinkable tragedies.

He and Jarn had been allies, but I wouldn’t hold that against him. “It’s good to see you again, Ambassador. How may I be of assistance?”

“My bondmate and I are presently on Vtaga, negotiating some trade agreements with the Hanar,” Teulon said. “We have received several signals from a number of border patrols and cargo vessels which have encountered a newly formed anomaly in an unexplored region between N-jui and Varallan. The anomaly appears to be a rift in space.”

Rifts, or dimensional disruptions, were so rare that only a handful had been discovered and mapped over the last thousand years. While their bizarre properties were interesting, most were unstable and presented only a minor hazard to the shipping routes. No one knew what caused them to appear or vanish.

“Does this rift pose a threat to any populated worlds?” I asked.

“Not to our immediate knowledge,” Teulon replied. “It is what came out of the rift that concerns us now.”

The fuzzy image of a star vessel appeared on the chamber screens. It appeared to be drifting in front of an uneven ellipse filled with millions of tiny stars. I couldn’t tell how large the ship was, but the sweeping design and intricate filigree of its hull arrays were unlike anything I’d ever seen. So were the red, white, and orange alloys or materials used to build it.

I frowned. “What is that?”

“We have been unable to identify it,” Teulon said. “The hull reflects most of our scans, although our patrols have used a drone probe to determine there is a crew on board.”

A vidfeed from the drone appeared on the screens, and showed the little mechano using some exhaust shafts to gain access to the mysterious vessel. It passed through several conduits and into what appeared to be a fuel tank filled with some dark, gelatinous liquid before it emerged into an interior compartment. There it widened the view from its lens to take in a series of clear vertical columns suspended from the upper deck.

Inside each column a motionless humanoid body hung suspended in a silvery white fluid.

“Are those stasis chambers?” I heard Shon say.

I didn’t see any breathing tubes or monitor lines attached to the bodies, but their heads were completely covered by some sort of helmet that might have been providing them with oxygen. Each column had also been equipped at the base with a series of control panels.

The technology we were seeing was so far advanced that it appeared unlike anything in existence.

I also saw something on the exposed skin of the bodies. “Ambassador, can you magnify the image and focus on one of the hands inside the tank?”

“Yes.” The image zoomed larger as it was magnified, until it showed a close-up of the back of one hand, glittering as if it was gloved in clear crystal. As we watched, the mineral attached to the skin grew a few millimeters.

“Those tanks are filled with protocrystal,” Shon said.

I glanced at him. “Are you sure?”

“I have seen it many times on my homeworld. The matrix is unmistakable.” He kept staring at the image. “But why isn’t it attacking or absorbing the bodies?”

I studied the images. “Maybe they’re somehow immune to it.” I raised my voice. “Ambassador, have you determined if the crew of this vessel is still alive?”

“Not as of yet.” Teulon Jado’s face reappeared on the screen. “We have sent out a salvage crew to secure the ship and tow it a safe distance away from anomaly, but for obvious reasons we do not wish to bring it to an inhabited world.”

“You can’t leave it to drift through space, either,” I said.

The council member made an elegant gesture. “Ambassador Teulon, the Hsktskt Hanar and our council agree that the first to board should be a medical response team, in the event the crew is still alive and require treatment. Healer Torin, Healer Valtas, you have had much experience with this mineral. You understand the dangers involved.”

“Seeing as the protocrystal almost ate Healer Valtas,” I said politely, “I guess we do.”

“Ambassador, this mineral is unpredictable, aggressive, and very dangerous,” Shon said. “As this appears to be the same substance, I advise against having any contact with this ship.”

“But if this crew belongs to a species unknown to us, one that has found the means with which to control the protocrystal,” Teulon countered, “they may be willing to share their knowledge. It could save your homeworld, oKia, from being consumed by it.”

I’d feel better if we first found out who the crew were. “Have you been able to determine if the ship came out of the rift?”

“Both appeared on a cargo vessel’s long- range scanners simultaneously,” he said.

Which meant that the ship could have been caught in the rift when it formed, or may have created it. “Have your patrol ships sent in any drones to see what’s on the other side of the rift?”

He nodded. “There is an unusual energy field within the perimeter of the anomaly. It has destroyed every drone sent through it.”

I didn’t want to go any more than Shon did, but the ambassador was right: we had the most experience in dealing with the effects of protocrystal exposure. “I’ll need time to assemble a team and arrange transport.”

“HouseClan Torin has put the Sunlace and her crew on standby,” the council member told me. “The Hanar’s delegation has also been instructed to provide you with any assistance the Faction may provide.”

Jarn had worked with ChoVa to cure the plague of memory, and with her experience in stasis medicine ChoVa would be invaluable. It meant putting Pyrs-Var’s restoration on hold, but I had no doubt if the Hsktskt healer came on the sojourn, he would insist on accompanying her. I could also work on designing the retroviral compound.

“If the Sunlace is ready, we can leave tomorrow,” I told Teulon. “I’ll go, on one condition.”

“Which is?” the ambassador asked.

“There is one person I don’t want on this expedition,” I told him. “He is to be kept on planet while I’m gone. Under guard, if necessary.”

Teulon’s brows rose. “Who is this male?”

“The ship’s linguist,” I said. “Duncan Reever.”