Dushau tdt-1 Read online

  “Prince Jindigar, you are overstepping.”

  Suddenly, Jindigar swept the piol from his head, thrust it at Krinata, muttering, “Fedeewarn!” and together with the other four Dushau, ran from the room without even token obeisance. Stunned, Krinata faced the perplexed Emperor alone. He raked her with a glance, and before he could speak, she made the deepest obeisance of her life without faltering, and said, “Prince Jindigar was apprehensive that such a thing might happen to the Oliat while in The Presence, Excellency. He has instructed me to apologize for Kamminth’s Oliat, and to explain that in the event of some mischance with Fedeewarn, he would revert to the Office of Receptor.”

  She stopped when Zinzik flipped a hand at her sharply, his whole manner speaking of his total familiarity with the sensitive Oliat mechanism. She nestled the piol against her breast and circled away from Zinzik, bowing as low as she could. He couldn’t have done this on purpose.

  Zinzik did not deign to notice her but circled the other way and followed the Oliat. Sh& trailed behind, wondering if she could beat Jindigar to the infirmary by taking a shortcut. But no, if there were any shortcuts in the ancient structure, he’d know them.

  In an atrium where a fountain danced merrily, they came upon the five Dushau. The four males knelt around Kamminth who writhed on the tiled floor as if her flesh were seared by the sunlight from the open roof. One of them screamed, an ululating roar of unparalleled anguish.

  Kamminth’s heels beat against the tiles, a seizure’s rhythm. Another of the Dushau vomited on the edge of the fountain, and then fell headfirst into the water. Jindigar remained clutching Kamminth, his hands bracing her head.

  Guards swept into the atrium in the Emperor’s wake, and formed up around him, awaiting orders. Krinata ran to the Dushau drowning unconscious in the fountain and, setting the piol on the edge, she hauled the large Dushau out of the water. He wasn’t breathing.

  She pulled him over on his chest and cleared his air passages, noting the unhealthy pallor of his teeth. Just as she was steeling herself to administer resuscitation, Jindigar’s hands replaced hers. He was vibrating again, as he had in the robing room, his whole body in the grip of a palsy of terror. He said, “Kamminth’s dead. I could do nothing.” And he bent to force air into the Dushau.

  Krinata watched the fight for life, glancing occasionally at the dead form of Kamminth surrounded by two traumatized Dushau men, and feeling their awesome age. What was it like to have invested five or six thousand years in building a life, to feel the beginnings of maturity, and to have it all ripped away in death? Her tears gathered for Kamminth, and her whole body yearned to help the drowned man.

  When he finally coughed and choked and drew breath, his teeth taking on the healthy blue cast of the living Dushau, his body convulsed, head thrown back, spine arched. Jindigar gathered him in as he had Kamminth, then reached out to sweep Krinata into their huddle. He grabbed her leptolizer from her belt hook and forced it between the man’s jaws. Then he just held on, damping the thrashing with his weight and hers. As Jindigar offered solace to his Oliat mate, he also clutched at her again, as if she were his lifeline to sanity.

  She never knew how long it lasted, but the Emperor and his guards still stood by the archway when the Dushau relaxed and began to breathe normally. Jindigar flashed her a smile, his teeth pale, but still a living blue. He returned her leptolizer, and went to the three other figures.

  One of the other two Dushau was slumped bonelessly over Kamminth’s corpse. The remaining one huddled upon himself. Jindigar put an arm around him, murmured something, and gently urged him toward Krinata and his half-drowned colleague. As he joined them, the Dushau touched Krinata and said, “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

  That he could speak to her meant the Dissolution was complete. “I haven’t been harmed,” she answered.

  Then as the new Dushau turned to his fallen comrade, Jindigar confronted the Emperor. “Fedeewarn is dead. Kamminth and Lelwatha are dead. Kamminth’s Oliat is dissolved. The survivors are at the imperial command, but may we beg medical attention first?”

  “Your right, without question,” answered the Emperor distantly, but Krinata sensed an underlying delight in the man. Impossible. I must be misreading a Lehiroh trait. The Allegiancy Emperor must think of all of us, not the few who inevitably die each day in his service. Zinzik sent one of his guards for the medics. Before Jindigar had composed the dead for their final journey, covering Kamminth’s terror-twisted features with his own surplice, a team of medics brought five anti-grav stretchers.

  With two corpses and the two surviving Dushau laid out on the anti-grav stretchers, the medics came after Jindigar. His teeth were paler, but he refused to move. “The piol?”

  The creature was perched on the edge of the fountain, sleek with wetness from its swim, happily nibbling one of the Emperor’s most expensive decorative fish.

  Seeing this, the Emperor roared, “Get that… that thing out of here!”

  His voice startled the piol. It dropped the half-eaten carcass and fled. Jindigar smacked his hand loudly against the fountain edge. The piol halted, measured the distance between the Emperor and Jindigar, then scampered around the fountain and leaped into Jindigar’s arms, mewling and licking Jindigar’s chin.

  Two medics caught the unsuspecting Dushau while he was consoling the piol and sat him down on the stretcher. With firm hands, they pressed him down onto the floating sickbed, connected Finemar’s monitoring probes, and set out for the infirmary.

  The Emperor and his entourage departed through another arch leaving Krinata alone, stunned. She shook herself and dashed after Jindigar, catching up with them at a cargo lift. “How bad is it? Is he going to be all right?”

  One of the medics, a human man about her own age, smiled charmingly at her and said, “You aren’t claiming to be next-of-kin, are you?”

  “Hardly,” she replied, “but I’m his debriefing officer. The Emperor expects rapid completion of this debriefing.”

  A Cassrian who was managing Finemar’s probes and muttering over the readouts, looked up, ”I didn’t know humans were that heartless.”

  Jindigar, barely conscious, roused himself. “Oh, don’t think that of her. I’ve never met a more generous soul.”

  Krinata, speechless, crowded into the lift with them as it took them down to the sub-basement level where they could get a transport tube to Survey’s building. Seeing Jindigar’s hands falling weakly away from the piol, she reached for it. He raised his trunk slightly to hand her the creature, pulled her head down and whispered, “Allow a couple of hours, then get us out of that infirmary. Krinata, please!”

  His eyes were big, dark indigo pools. She nodded, swallowing against her dry throat, and took the piol. Jindigar crumpled onto the white sheets as the medication they’d given him took effect.

  She stood in the bleak, underground tunnel watching them disappear, feeling as if her only friend in all the world were being taken to jail.

  Bereft and confused, her nerves in turmoil, Krinata dragged herself back to her own office and locked the door behind her, extinguishing her on-duty indicators so nobody would bother her.

  Trying to steady her breathing and calm herself enough to think rationally, she fed the piol from her own– lunch. Her appetite had fled.

  She’d never seen death—dead bodies—before. Warm, scented flesh turning stiff and cold within arm’s reach of her skin had felt very different from seeing it on a news holo. And Dushau—they never died in public.

  Scared to death. An Oliat could die like that in the field, survivors returning to report it. But on the floor of the palace? She shuddered and huddled over the piol as it alternately groomed itself and her. Kamminth’s Oliat had been torn apart, their minds lacerated by that savage ripping. She could imagine – what it must have felt like.

  Her admiration for Jindigar redoubled. He’d kept his head through all of it. He deserved to rest in the infirmary. But he’d begged her to get him out. How?
He’s obviously in critical condition just like Fedeewarn.

  She sat up, pushing the piol aside. “Fedeewarn!” She died in the infirmary!

  Suddenly, Jindigar’s desperate fear became real to her. Whatever had been done to Fedeewarn had decimated the Oliat. But Jindigar himself had warned her of the delusions that could afflict an Oliat in Dissolution.

  What were the facts? Was it rational to suspect Finemar, a Sentient computer, of not understanding the proper way to treat sick Dushau? And if it wasn’t ignorance… no! No. It couldn’t have been murder!

  She dismissed all thought of extricating Jindigar from the care that could help him overcome the mental warping of the Dissolution. Returning to her desk, she sat down and powered up to get some work done in the remainder of her day.

  But no sooner had she brought up a file than her thoughts centered on Jindigar. What if he died?

  Time turned bleak, barren.

  And then, of course, there’d be no hope of retrieving the in-depth data on their new planet They’d have only the holocordings and data arrays; nothing to attract prospective settlers. It took an Outreach to provide that.

  What would I feel like, abandoned helpless in the hands of the murderers of those closest to me?

  She groaned an oath, and punched up the Dushaun ambassador’s office. The screen flipped images and settled on the rotating mobius-strip symbol of Dushaun. A cultured voice announced, “The Embassy offices are closed and will reopen at midmorning tomorrow. Thank you.”

  The deep sinking in the pit of her stomach prompted her to punch up the infirmary directly, telling herself, Ifs my duty to find out what’s going on.

  Finemar came on the screen smiling benignly. Seeing her, he drew his expression into solemnity. “I hope you’ve not been unduly disturbed by what you witnessed this afternoon, Krinata. The survivors are doing well.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “But I require details on their condition. How soon will they be released?”

  “Their prognosis is excellent, considering. We should be able to determine a release date in a few days.”

  “When can I see Jindigar?”

  “He’s under heavy sedation. I’m not permitted to authorize visitors for him.”

  “Jindigar is to be debriefed as soon as possible, by order of the Emperor,” she said, hating herself for using such an excuse. But she knew Finemar had been reprogrammed to accept nothing but such authority. “I must object to any delays.”

  “But I have it on highest authority that Jindigar and the other two survivors of Kamminth’s are not to be allowed visitors, and are to be held as long as possible.”

  What?! “Who issued that order?”

  Finemar began to answer, went slack-faced, then puzzled. “I can’t locate the source of my orders, but it’s Highest Priority. 1 must have a malfunction, Krinata. I’m sorry. I will attend to it immediately.”

  His image began to fade, but then the screen split in half and a Dushau simulacrum came on the screen, facing Finemar, profile to Krinata. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing my master’s name, Jindigar. I’m Arlai, Onboard Sentient of Ephemeral Truth assigned to Kamminth’s Oliat. Please provide me a briefing dump.”

  Finemar turned to Arlai, saying, “My pleasure, but a great deal of the information is under priority seal. Is this sufficient?” In those seconds, Finemar had sent Arlai the open files.

  “By no means,” answered Arlai in Jindigar’s tone. “I require complete information on my master. I have the priorities.”

  “In Reception,” answered Finemar looking down. Then he raised his eyes, saying, “I’m sorry, your key is not sufficient. You haven’t been reprogrammed since Emperor Rantan’s coronation.”

  Krinata knew the verbal discussion was for her benefit alone. The two computers were conversing in their own time frame. She said, “Arlai, I have need to bring your master out of the infirmary within the next few hours. He did request it, and so did the Emperor. Would he be in danger if he were released today?”

  Arlai turned to face her, flashing healthy Dushau teeth. “By the data I’ve been given, no. If he wore my telemband, I could monitor his health as well as Finemar. I have field-medic training, as well as Dushau specialization. I would not have placed the Oliat survivors under sedation.”

  Krinata wondered if Finemar’s malfunction could explain Fedeewarn’s death. She said to Finemar, “You’ve admitted a malfunction. It makes sense to lighten your caseload under such circumstances, so on my authority, transfer the Dushau to Arlai as a specialist physician.” She appealed shamelessly to Finemar’s physician’s programming. “It’s the best way to insure the well-being of the Dushau in your care.”

  Finemar blinked expressionlessly. Krinata had never seen a Sentient take so long to make a decision. But then he said, “A sensible suggestion. I feel it is wrong to follow it, but I do not know why. Undoubtedly, the malfunction is impairing my judgment. Arlai, send your instrumentality to me at once. I’m beginning to waken the patients who will be remanded to your care.”

  Again he began to sign off, but this time Krinata stopped him. “I think it would be wise if I were present when Jindigar wakes. Several times he expressed gratitude for my presence. It seems to stabilize him somehow.”

  Arlai looked surprised, but said, “That can happen on rare occasion, and if so, then it is crucial that you be present.”

  Finemar looked from one to the other of them, perplexed as no machine ever should be. “I have data that this is true. But I also have specific instructions.”

  Arlai replied, “It is unwise to follow sourceless instructions, for how will you explain your actions in the event of disaster?”

  In evident distress, Finemar agreed to permit Krinata’s presence, and the two Sentients vanished from her screen. She snatched up her leptolizer, deactivating the screen, tucked the piol under one arm and headed for the infirmary.

  The hospital section was on the top floor, in a far wing of the oldest part of the structure. She set her leptolizer to home on the infirmary, and followed its colored light display until she was thoroughly disoriented. At last, she found herself in a pleasant reception area, wide windows providing a spectacular view of the sunset over the crystal and ebony spires of the Allegiancy capital.

  She paused, breath caught in her throat, once again ensnared by the upwelling of emotion she’d felt before the throne. The Allegiancy, for nearly two thousand years, had utilized the best within each of those who served it, remaining impervious to their inevitable, mortal pettiness. The greatness of the Allegiancy was in the way it also captured the dedication of people like Jindigar. Such an organization was worthy of her devotion, even her life.

  As she approached the monitor screen to announce herself to Security, she felt purified by her perception of the glory outside those windows. A small scurry passed her, three packages on its deliver}’ platform. As Security admitted her to the corridor of in-patient rooms, she set her leptolizer to home on Jindigar, and found herself following the scurry right to the end of the hall and into a large room with three beds and a heartstopping view of the city and the sunset.

  There were just a few puffs of cloud scattered about the purple sky, arranged to complement the capitol buildings as if by the Celestial Artist.

  Two attendants, a Holot and a Lehiroh, were working over Jindigar and the other two Dushau. As the scurry delivered the packages, the Holot said, “I don’t like this. The last time we wakened a traumatized Dushau, she died!”

  “But that was before Dissolution, and we told Finemar it was unwise to allow an interview with anyone but an Outreach.”

  The Lehiroh spotted Krinata and broke off. “You must be the programming ecologist.” When she affirmed that, he asked, “Is your debriefing worth risking this man’s life?”

  “I’m no medic,” she answered, “but Arlai, the Sentient medic who usually treats these Dushau, and I agree the risk is less this way. Hook up Arlai before you wake them, and listen to wha
t he says.”

  She seated her leptolizer in the corn-slot near the bed and evoked Arlai. “They’re about to connect you.”

  “Prepared to receive telemetry.”

  The Holot had one cuff secured around a Dushau arm. He turned to the screen and asked, “Receiving?”

  “Perfectly,” answered Arlai. “The others?”

  The Lehiroh sealed another cuff on Jindigar’s arm while the Holot attended the third Dushau. Arlai began running their stats across the screen.

  The Lehiroh said, “Finemar, are you with us?”

  “Checking. Arlai’s stat readback differs from mine. Stand by.” In a moment, the screen split and they could see another set of numbers crawl up the screen.

  Krinata stood in shock. This was virtually impossible. Computers like Finemar just never, ever distorted like this. “Arlai, run your Standardizing Comparison Test. Finemar, do the same.”

  The two medics looked at each other in total disbelief. A moment later, Arlai said, “I am clear, up and functioning. Scum’s life-stats are too low, the others are low but acceptable.”

  The numbers on Finemar’s side of the screen cleared and Finemar’s visage came on, funereal grimness on his countenance. “I am not clear, though up and running. I must shut down the infirmary. I’ve called Doctor Phips, and he will be here within the hour. I suggest you revive the Dushau by hand, or wait for Phips.”

  The Holot said, “We’ll wait.”

  Simultaneously, the Lehiroh said, “Arlai can guide.”

  Krinata said, “I believe it’s imperative to revive them as soon as possible. Arlai, can you trust your monitoring? Are you in orbit above this point, or relaying?”

  “I am above you and will remain so for sufficient time. I will monitor. Please proceed.” He flashed his own face on their screen, gave a reassuring nod, then presented them with the readout and the orders for changing the drugs.