Part 14 (2/2)

*Chapter Seven*

With some judicious bullying, Zed found his ice climbing equipment at the little landingport. It lay in a corner, under a pile of greasy rags where some porter had dropped it. He checked the seals; they were unbroken. The manager apologized a dozen times. Zed watched the porters move around the port, frowning. He wondered when they had last had blood tests. They were not slaves -- the only slave near the landingport was in the exit booth -- but dorazine addiction was a constant problem among laborers, ex-slave or not.

”I want your people tested,” he said to the manager. ”I'm on my way to the Clinic; I'll have the clerk call you to set up a time.”

”Whatever you say, Commander.”

Main Clinic was in the city's southeast corner, six blocks from the Promenade. It looked, off-worlders said, like a Terran starfish; five long one- story buildings radiated from the center hub. The hub was CTD, Clinical Tests Department. Its spokes were Outpatient, Contagious, Surgery, Recovery, and Special Services. Outpatient's princ.i.p.al work was to coordinate and staff the mobile units that did the monthly dorazine tests. By Chabadese law, every slave on dorazine maintenance had to have a blood test every three months. The technicians who rotated to the mobile units called it ”Going to Needle Row.”

Zed stopped at the Outpatient desk. The clerk said, ”I'll put it in the computer, Senior, but they probably won't get to it until after the Auction.”

”Do what you can,” Zed said. The clerk shrugged.

The wheel-like architecture of Main Clinic reminded Zed with pleasure of the Net. He followed the traffic flow through Outpatient to CTD. From there he walked around the rim of the core until he came to the entrance to Surgery. He walked to the interior of the building and leaned on the chief clerk's desk.

Her name was Yukiko Chun; she was a dark woman, withered as a dry stick, all snap and bark. ”Senior Yago,” she said, ”welcome back.”

”Thank you, Yuki. It's good to be home.”

”Too bad you didn't get here earlier,” she said. ”We could have used you last week.”

”Oh?”

”There was an accident at the Gemit mines.” Zed's interest sharpened.

Rhani will want to know that, he thought. ”A surgical team flew out there. They had to do some very tricky limb replacements.” Her mouth folded down severely; she was scolding him. As far as Yukiko was concerned, surgeons had no private lives. She moved them ruthlessly about to fit her schedules, knew their every foible, and treated them all alike. ”You want morning or evening s.h.i.+ft?”

”Wherever you're short,” Zed said.

”I'll put you on Emergency call,” she said. ”Where are you staying?”

”The Abanat house.”

There was no exit to the street from Surgery; Zed retraced his steps to CTD, and from there to Outpatient. A woman came through a doorway; saw him; stopped. Shyly she said, ”h.e.l.lo, Zed.”

Her name was Sai Thomas. Like Zed, she was a senior medic. They were old friends, and a little more. Some five years back she had approached him with an offer.... ”I've heard rumors about you,” she had said. Oh, no, he had thought, prepared to evade or to lie. ”The rumors say you like pain.” She was forthright.

”I'm high on the Reage test, you know.” The Reage test, Zed knew, examined an individual's emotional and physiological reactions to a situation of mutual, consensual, sado-m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic s.e.x.

”I'm not,” he said. It was the truth: he had no interest in mutual pain.

The thought of being vulnerable in the ways he made his victims vulnerable terrified him.

”Tests have been known to be wrong,” Sai said. ”I thought -- ” She laid a hand firmly on his forearm. ”Zed, I think you're very attractive.”

Despite his better judgment, Zed had been moved. ”Sai, I'm not -- I don't usually choose women for partners,” he said awkwardly. h.e.l.l, I don't have partners, he had thought.

They had gone to bed together. The trappings of fantasy -- silk and chains -- excited him not at all. Sai was gentle, patient, determined. Zed was hopeful, but even the force of his practiced will had not made his body perform: he could, at her request, bind her, but when it came to inflicting pain he could not move. He was afraid of what might happen if he did. Finally she had understood that it was not going to work. Sadly she said good night to him. He had gone home and gotten drunk. He spent the next night in Lamartine's, the one brothel in Abanat willing to cater to his tastes. That evening five years back had been the last time Zed had tried to break out of his psychos.e.xual patterns.

She was st.u.r.dy, fair-haired, quiet -- not at all like Rhani. Yet that night in her room he had seen only Rhani.

”How are you?” he said.

”Fine,” she answered, ”you?”

He respected her, and would not lie to her. ”Things could be better. I'll tell you about it sometime. Family concerns.”

”Anytime. Are you on the schedule?”

”Emergency, on call. And you?” They talked Clinic business for a while.

She had been the anesthesiologist on the team that flew to Gemit. Zed questioned her about the accident, but she knew few of the details. She described the surgical work with pride.

”You should stop in Recovery and look at it.”

”I'll do that.”

He rode the movalongs back to the house. It was getting close to noon, and hot. He slid the front door back. The house seemed very dark. Binkie, Dana, and Corrios stood in a huddle in the hall. At the sound of the door, they looked up. Binkie's face grayed. Zed stepped in. The door slid closed. Something was wrong. He touched the hall intercom. ”Rhani?”

Not even an echo answered him.

He said to them all, ”Where is she?”

Dana answered. ”We don't know. She went out alone. We were making a list of places to call.”

Zed's mind filled with pictures of Rhani hurt, kidnapped, dead, somewhere in Abanat. Binkie babbled; he barely noticed the exculpatory whine. Dana's shoulders were hunched. Zed moved toward him. ”I told you to stay with her.”

With grim satisfaction, he saw the color drain from Dana's face, and fear tighten the muscles around his eyes.

”Zed, I -- ”

”Shut up. I told you to guard her.” He let his hand rest on Dana's shoulder, fingers caressing the pressure point. ”Didn't I?”

Dana swallowed. In a half-whisper, he said, ”Yes, Zed-ka.”

Knocking interrupted the moment. Corrios hurried to open the front door.

Rhani stood, framed in the light. Binkie gasped her name. She came inside, glancing swiftly from Zed to Dana. ”Zed-ka,” she said, ”you promised. He's mine.”

It was true, and she was unhurt. Nevertheless, Zed permitted himself a hard look at Dana before he took his fingers from Dana's arm. ”Where were you?”

he said to his sister. ”Why were you alone?”

She said, with a look at the slaves, ”It's a long story. Corrios, make us something cool to drink, please. Dana, Binkie -- you may go.” Dana bowed. The color was back in his face. He strode off toward the slaves' hall. Binkie nearly knocked a chair down in his haste to follow.

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