Free Eternity Row by S. L. Viehl Page A

sharp slash with one hand, one of the more basic Jorenian nonverbal insults. “He did not have to stave off intergalactic slavers and mercenaries from a thousand worlds, bent on destroying every civilization in their path.”
    “I know. All poor old Tarek had to do was end the hostilities between, what, forty or fifty measly warring HouseClans?” I made a tsking sound. “Not much of a job. They were just fighting a bunch of stupid territorial wars in which they enslaved, raped, and murdered other Jorenians, right? Bet he never even broke a sweat.”
    Xonea saw where I was going. “It is not the same.”
    “It is exactly the same, you thickheaded dolt!” I flung a hand toward the wide vista of stars outside his viewer. “Who are you taking on with your sonic cannons? The slavers and the soldiers and the hired killers aren’t any different than the ones Tarek Varena brought to the peace table. There’s just more of them.”
    “I am not a philosopher!” He slammed his fist into his console, leaving a deep depression in the surface.
    I drew back a step. “No, you’re not. You’re a warrior. A warrior who killed four hundred beings with one blow yesterday. That makes you an aggressive leader. And a mass murderer. Bravo, ClanBrother.”
    The words hung between us for a moment.
    “One more thing.” I took Marel’s wrist unit out of my tunic and slapped it on his console, hard enough to shatter the infuser port. “Keep my baby out of your war.”
    He gathered up the pieces, and tightened his fist over them until a trickle of green blood ran down his arm. “I will defend this vessel and our HouseClan, Healer.”
    “You do what you have to do.” Unmoved, I watched him bleed. “Next time you can explain to my daughter why the big ship went boom .”
    “Marel witnessed what happened?” He came around the desk. “You allowed this?”
    Now I wanted to make him bleed. “No, Xonea, I try not to deliberately traumatize my kid. She came to Medical and saw it happen on the screen, like the rest of us.”
    He got in my face. “You should have removed her!”
    “You shouldn’t have blown it up!” I shouted back.
    For a minute, only an inch separated us, and I could have sworn he was going to take a swing at me. Just like the old days. But this Xonea hadn’t been drugged into mindless aggression, and quickly regained his self-control.
    “I regret that my ClanNiece witnessed this.”
    “I believe you.” Time to play my final card. “Tell me why you’ve got Qonja watching me.”
    His expression went blank, but not before betraying a flash of wary surprise. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “This psych resident spends more time following me around than he does in Medical,” I said. “Next thing you know he’ll be sleeping between me and Duncan. What’s going on, Xonea?”
    He dragged a hand through his black hair, messing up his warrior’s knot. “Qonja has not received orders from me to keep you under surveillance.”
    I knew he was telling the truth-Jorenians are lousy liars-so why did I still sense he was hiding something? “Then you should have no problem with ordering him to stop it.”
    “I will speak to him.”
    I waved at his bloody fist. “Report to Squilyp to get that treated. If I have to suture it, I may sew it over your mouth.”
    “As honest as you are blunt.” He bowed his head for a moment, then leveled his gaze with mine. “You must understand, Cherijo: An enemy allowed to live will return to attack again. That is the way of war.”
    “Is it? What if you don’t? Maybe they won’t attack. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll come back to find out why you didn’t destroy them when you had the chance.” I went to the door panel. “When that happens, it’s called something else. The way of peace.”
    I reported to Medical to take over from Vlaav, who had relieved Squilyp during the night. The Senior Healer appeared in time for morning rounds, and reluctantly allowed me to give him a