The Vastalimi Gambit Read Online Free Page A

succumbed first. Droc had seen patients bleed from the eyes and ears and even the skin; fulminant fevers had cooked brains into seizures; hearts had raced into uncontrolled tachycardia or slowed to bradycardia and just stopped. Livers, kidneys, stomachs, bowels, lungs went septic and died.
    Many patients, once informed of the inevitable progress of the syndrome, opted for
izvaditi utrobu
. Suicide was quicker, less painful, and honorable. If he himself contracted the malady, Droc expected he would fight it to the end, to allow other Healers more time to study him. Yes, that would be a bad way to die, but it might serve some purpose.
    His sister was here, on-planet, and she would be arriving shortly. She had been among the best Healers on their world when she had practiced the arts. She’d had skill, of course, but more importantly, she had sometimes been preternaturally able to intuit things that most Healers could not. It seemed empathic, even telepathic, how she simply
knew
what was wrong with a patient, sometimes simply by walking into the same room, no examination, nothing. A talent he did not have.
    It had been a loss to Vastalimi medicine when she had left the planet. And a personal one.
    He knew the truth, and Kluth’s choices had been limited; he understood her decision. Exile had been, in some ways, harder than death. He did not think he could have done it that way. Whatever perceived dishonor there might have been, she had taken it with her and become a focus that drew attention away from her family. He understood why she’d done so.
    Droc wondered where Jak was these days. Not so much that he would bother to look, but as an idle curiosity. Jak, who had walked away clean because of Kluth’s sacrifice. Droc had despised him for that, then. Later, he had come to honor her decision, at least to the point where he could stomach being in the same hemisphere with Jak. Barely. He was not one to initiate duels, but he had considered doing so in Jak’s case. Such a pleasure it would be to kill him. What a scathead he was.
    Such a hard choice his sister had made. And one she should not have had to make.
    Not that he blamed her. She had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and there had been nothing to be done for it. It had been years, the parties involved had moved on. Some were dead, some no longer in positions of power, some shunted into places where they were no threat; still, there was a risk. Vial was still around, the scum-spawn.
    Had he not asked it of her, Kluth would never have returned to Vast, and it could be the death of her, despite his current status.
    But if she could help him figure out what was killing The People? Her death, his, they were nothing compared to that. She would be the first to agree.
    Vastalimi did not fear death the same way that some other species did.
    “My sister is coming. She has brought a human medic with her.”
    “A human? Interesting. I hope she can keep him alive long enough to be useful. How is Kluth?”
    “Dutiful, else she would not be here.”
    “She is that. I’ll call if I find anything. Don’t hold your breath waiting.”
    “No. I won’t.”
    _ _ _ _ _ _
    A row of vehicles was parked at the curb outside the port, small-wheeled, enclosed carts that could carry perhaps four, if two of them were small and flexible. “That one,” Kay said, nodding at one of the carts.
    “How do you know which it is?”
    “One is as good as the next.”
    “What if it belongs to somebody?”
    “Then they will have to find another. They won’t mind. Such vessels are not prized among us. There are more than enough to go around. Were you not with me, I would simply lope. Why would I ride such a short distance if my legs are sound?”
    “How short a distance are we talking about?”
    “About nine kilometers.”
    “That all?” The air was dry, the temperature maybe twenty or so Celsius. Not hot, not cold. Still, it would probably make for a sweaty run, an activity for which