The Vastalimi Gambit Read Online Free

heard it. He fought an urge to step back.
    The male Vastalimi said, “Not at this time.”
    “Then move from my path or unsheathe your claws.”
    He moved aside.
    As they reached the exit, Wink said, “Well, that was fun. Expect that to happen a lot?”
    “It is possible. That one would not have been a problem had he persisted.”
    “Really?”
    “One can tell by the way a being stands if he presents a real threat. He did not stand well. I am pleased to have made it this far without combat; I expected that I would have had at least one fight by now.”
    He raised an eyebrow at her.
    “Welcome to Vast, Wink Doctor. It is not like anyplace else you have ever been.”
    _ _ _ _ _ _
    At the lab in the bowels of the
bolnica
, Droc nodded at Luque, the Chief of Research, a wizened old Vastalimi of 160 or so who had been in charge of the place since before Droc had been born.
    There was no need to ask about progress. Had there been any, Luque would have informed him.
    “I have new blood samples,” he said.
    Luque nodded. “We will examine them in their turn.”
    Every kind of tissue that made up a Vastalimi had been harvested and examined with the finest observational machineries available. The tiniest of retroviruses would appear to be planet-sized when projected onto the screens.
    So far, nothing had been detected with them that offered a cause.
    That did not seem possible.
    The medical system on Vast was not as advanced as it was on some worlds; still, it was not primitive. If a Healer needed or wanted a device or medicines, and they were available commercially anywhere in the galaxy, they were free to buy and use them, including implants.
    It was true that augmentation among Vastalimi was extremely rare—in twenty-five years of practice, Droc had never actually seen a case of it himself though he knew some Healers who had. Vastalimi did not hold with such things, at least the sane ones did not. Not all were sane, however.
    Vastalimi were complex, but not particularly complicated creatures, and The People were, as a species, hardy. Many illnesses that affected other beings did not infect them. Cancer was rare, arterial diseases infrequent. Infections of the kidneys or liver or bowel happened, but the leading causes of death on Vast were old age, accidents, and combat, with everything else trailing.
    Yes, there were agents that afflicted The People. Brain fevers, lung infections, blood dyscrasias and poisonings, mental issues, a host of things; however, most were nonfatal, most of the time.
    Every test that Droc and the other Healers had run on the dying victims had come up negative for a causative organism. The agent did not chart as a known pathogen. Not a bacterium, fungus, or virus. Neither did it seem to be any kind of allergen, radioactive element, or detectable poison. Nothing to show it as a plasmid or episome. No evidence of genetic retroengineering had been detected.
    Healers were at a loss.
    People got sick, suffered a short and awful illness, and died. It did not seem to be militantly contagious, in that health workers exposed to the dying had not contracted it—as far as anybody could tell. Some family members and others in close proximity had been affected, including his own parents and some siblings. Of course, it might be like some retroviruses, with a very long and dormant incubation period. Perhaps the afflicted had been carrying the invisible seeds of it for decades.
    Or perhaps it was black magic or a plague sent by somebody’s malignant god, for all they had been able to determine.
    It was frustrating. Vastalimi did not fear enemies, but to fight them, you had to identify them. If you did not know the cause of an illness, how could you combat it?
    The body’s reaction was more or less the same: It broke down, there was a cascade of signs and symptoms that mimicked several known diseases or conditions. Systems failed; the direct causes of death varied, it was a matter of which organ or organs