When she got out she found that Dalden hadn't stuck around for a well‑deserved "I told you so." But standing there apparently waiting on her was one of the loveliest women she'd ever encountered in person, the stuff models were made of, a face meant for the front page of magazines. Blonde, amber‑eyed, golden‑skinned and not quite as tall as Brittany, but taller than average. She was wearing a white one‑piece jumpsuit that looked like a uniform and fit like a second skin, in a thin, stretchy material. She was also wearing a very friendly simile, even though her eyes were avidly curious.
Brittany was just as curious, and asked, "Who are you?"
The smile got wider. "My name is Shanelle Van'yer. Dalden didn't mention me?"
Brittany stiffened, ruining a good portion of the work that the massager had just done on her. "No, he didn't. Should he have?"
"I suppose not. I've been dying to meet you, though. I could not believe it when Martha told me that Dalden had chosen his lifemate. And after knowing you for only two days! Such impulsiveness just isn't in his genes.
"You know him well, then?"
"Shanelle, sweetie." Martha's voice interjected from one of the wall monitors across the room. "YOU might Want to take a precautionary step or two back before she socks you one, because she's about as livid with Jealousy as a humanoid can get at the moment.
Shanelle merely frowned. "Jealous? Why?"
Martha was quick to answer in one of her drier tones, "Possibly because you didn't make clear that you're a relation of Dalden's rather than a fun‑sharing companion."
It was an utter exaggeration that she was livid with Jealousy, but it still had Brittany blushing profusely, because she had just experienced some serious, but apparently unwarranted, negative emotion.
"A relation?" she asked.
"His sister, or to be more exact, his twin."
"Sister?" Brittany said hollowly, and her blush got ten times worse.
The beautiful Shanelle gave her a beautiful smile. "His only sibling, for that matter. Our father decided two of us were enough after our mother went through he]] having us. Not that it was a really difficult delivery for her, just that they don't deliver babies where she comes from, so it was an experience she couldn't really relate to on any level."
Brittany stared at her. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask for a detailed explanation, but she decided there was no way an explanation was going to make sense.
Instead she said, "I think I'll have another round in this massager.
"The machine knows when you've had enough, can sense it by the looseness of your muscles, in the same way it senses the tightness, to know which areas need the most work. It won't operate on you again until you need it to work on you. It doesn't operate on want.' In that respect, it's like a meditech unit."
"What's that, a doctor in a box?"
"I know you were being sarcastic there, but that's pretty much
exactly what a meditech unit is. It's one of the crowning achievements of Kystrani scientists. They're pretty expensive, so they haven't made the medical profession completely obsolete, since not all planets can afford them. Those that can tend to have one or more units in each town. Most ships also have a unit on them, except for the smaller traders. A battleship like this one would of course have quite a few."
"What exactly are we‑you‑talking about?" Brittany demanded.
Shanelle frowned. "Martha gave me a Sublim tape on your language. I thought I had it down pat. Wasn't I making sense to you.
I understood every word. I just don't know what you're talking about."
"The doctor in a box, that ring a bell?"
"That's ridiculous."
"No, it's called a meditech unit."
"Okay, I'll bite for the moment," Brittany said with a sigh. "What's it do?"
"Everything except bring life back‑and deliver babies. It does everything a doctor can do, just a whole lot quicker. It accelerates the healing process to such an extent that it's almost instantaneous. It cures disease, mends bones and ripped skin and muscle is so thorough in fixing anything that's abnormal that even old scar tissue gets erased."
"Do you realize what you're describing is nothing short of miraculous?"
Shanelle shrugged. "If it helps, a lot of worlds agree with your rather, disbelieve, just like you. Sha‑Ka'an was the same, but it's kinda hard to dispute when you actually see someone injured beyond repair, about to die, and then after a Transfer to a meditech they are back to perfect health. It's so miraculous that the Sha‑ Ka´ani, who want absolutely nothing to do with off‑world inventions and high technology, ordered at least one meditech unit for each of their towns. If something can save your life when nothing else can, that's worth having around, isn't it?"
"Sure," Brittany agreed. "If something like that really exists."
Shanelle grinned at her. "Let's hope you never need to find out."
"No, why don't we prove it to me instead."
Shanelle blinked. "You want to get injured just to experience something firsthand? I really don't think Dalden would allow that."
"You said it erases scars, didn't you? Well, I'm loaded with them‑no biggies, but lots of little ones, a hazard of my profession."
"She's got you there, kiddo," Martha's voice purred from across the room. "Take her to Medical. This ought to be interesting."
Brittany wasn´t sure she wanted to go now. If Martha was all for it, then there must be some new trick awaiting her there. The massager had been nice, but she wouldn't be surprised if something like that had been invented already but just wasn't on the market yet for the general public. But this so‑called meditech was about as believable as a spaceship was.
She followed Shanelle anyway. Curiosity was human nature, as well as walking eyes‑open into traps because of it. So what would they tell her when she still had her scars afterward? That the machine was currently malfunctioning, or that the scars were too old to be erased?
There was a row of them in the pristine white room called Medical, but no technicians around to operate them. They were longer than the massager, wider, deeper, and really did resemble oversized coffins. Brittany almost balked at getting into one of them. This was ridiculous. The thing couldn't do what they said it could. Yet this was her idea; she couldn't back down from it now. Well, she could, but she preferred to not give a cowardly impression if she could help it.
The lid on the closest one opened automatically as soon as she got near it. The unit was low to the floor, the bottom about the height of a couch, easy to sit down and stretch out in. It was padded on all sides, and not as deep as its size seemed to indicate. Considering that there wasn't much depth to the lid either, they would probably only accommodate lean people, which was pretty Silly when you considered people came in all sizes and shapes.
"What happens when people with a weight problem need to use one of these?" she asked as she cautiously laid down on the one that had opened for her.
"I mentioned they aren't designed to deal with pregnancies, didn't I?"
mean just your average person who likes to eat too much."
"Ohhh, well, I suppose they would need to lose some weight first.
"And die in the meantime?''
Shanelle smiled. "The world that created these is a world that no longer uses its animal resources, the few it has left anyway, for food purposes. They subsist on food that has the texture, taste, and look of the real stuff, but it's not real, and it's virtually impossible to become overweight on such a regulated, nutritious diet.
"But you also said these get sold to other worlds‑have they all conquered obesity?"
"No, indeed, but can you imagine a better incentive to keep
your body healthy? I'm sorry, that was a rather tasteless bit of humor; Actually, most of the higher advanced worlds have 'conquered,' as you put it, such health problems, if not through government, regulation then with simple intelligence and an appreciation of a healthy environment. Then, too, you have militaristic worlds that
" I keep fit for other than health reasons. Either way, once a world, has been discovered, they can opt to advance their way of life, or.." continue to progress normally. The League of Confederated Planets, has a strict policy of noninterference if a planet opts for he latter.
"But why would anyone refuse such‑miracles‑if they were offered?"
"For any number of reasons, including ingrained culture, ignorance, natural distrust of off‑worlders‑" Laughter circled, echoed: about the room from the many wall monitors, causing Shanelle to make a face before adding, "Okay, and warrior stubbornness."
I think she was being amused by my distrust," Brittany said, making a face of her own.
Shanelle just grinned. "Don't kid yourself, kiddo. The ShaKa'ani have other worlds beat hands down when it comes to not liking off‑worlders and off‑world inventions."
Shanelle stepped back then, and the lid closed on Brittany. Panic flared, but didn't last long. Once again she was completely encased in one of their machines, but this one was simply like a soft heat that moved around her, passing over all her limbs, a tingle here and there, and then the lid popped open again.
Brittany frowned as she sat back up. No more than a few seconds had passed, barely enough time to hear the low hum on the machine as it came to life and to feel that gentle heat surrounding her. just as she'd figured. They were going to claim the thing had malfunctioned.
She beat them to it. "Not working, huh?"
Shanelle frowned at her. "Why? You still have some scars left?"
Expecting excuses, Brittany hadn't even thought to look down for proof. She glanced at her left hand, the one that had suffered the most injuries during the years she'd been learning her craft. She looked at both sides of it. Then she brought it up in front of her face for closer examination.
Her expression must have mirrored her incredulity, because Martha, viewing the room from the wall unit across from her, complained, "Oh, sure, I offer her a walk on the moon and she's still skeptical, but one little visit to a meditech and she enters 'have to believe it' mode."
Brittany snapped her jaw shut and gritted her teeth. "It's hypnosis, isn't it? The scars are still there, you've just convinced my mind not to see them."
"Hey, I'm impressed," Shanelle said with a chuckle. "That's a really good logical deduction if you're determined to doubt. But let's hope we don't need the meditech to prove any more points. Shall we adjourn to the Rec Room now? Dalden's probably
done with Jorran by now and wondering why you're not where he left you."
Brittany had forgotten all about Jorran. "That egomaniac is behind lock and key, I hope?"
"Better than that, he's in a containing cell. It doesn't have doors, windows, or any other means to get out of it without Transfer. A very luxurious suite, actually, which in my opinion he doesn't deserve. But we don't mistreat prisoners, we just make sure those needing isolation get it. Though Martha has been Transferring his people aboard‑they've all elected to travel with Jorran, rather than return home on their ship‑they aren't going to be allowed to speak with him during the journey and are being delivered to an unused portion of the ship where they'll be kept happy but out of the way. Putting him with them would just be asking for trouble. How's the collection going anyway, Martha?"
"Two rods left unaccounted for," Martha replied. "But two of Jorran's people haven't checked in yet to know he's been captured. Current estimate is another three hours before we can depart.
"The captain of Jorran's ship is being very cooperative," Shanelle explained as they headed out of Medical. "Once he got a look at the battleship hovering over him, he gave the exact coordinates for the remaining Centurians on his ship, wanting them all off it immediately, and he's making every effort to find the remaining two still down on the planet."
"Then he's not a Centurian himself?"
"No, it's just a simple trader with a full crew that Jorran hired to transport him to his new 'kingdom.'
They had arrived at the Rec Room. It was a really big room, designed to entertain the ship's crew in their off‑duty hours. This ship had Martha, rather than a crew, but the Rec Room was filled with men anyway‑nearly fifty of them, and all huge like Dalden.
"You aren't going into shock again, are you?" Shanelle asked with concern. "Weren't you told that there were other Sha‑Ka'ani here?"
"I don't‑recall."
"These are my father's warriors, sent along to protect my mother on her trip to Kystran. We were on our way home from that planet when we got the distress call from Sunder. Mother insisted the warriors accompany us, and went home alone." Shanelle's voice rose to reach Martha amid the noise in the room, even though there was a wall monitor right behind them. "Assure me again, Martha, that the Probables say she didn't get punished for that? "
"Stop fretting, doll," Martha replied. "You know your father is more understanding than that."
"Except when it comes to the protection of his lifemate," Shanelle said in rising agitation.
"Punished?" Brittany choked out.
"You don't want to know," Shanelle replied before she stomped off, really upset now.
"Martha?" Brittany demanded, her own upset getting out of hand.
But Martha Just purred, "She was right, you don't want to know. Besides, Shanelle typically overreacts whenever she thinks her mother has earned her father's displeasure. In this case she's dead wrong, but there'll be no convincing her of that tin she gets home and sees for herself." And then Martha added, "But why get into the oddities and peculiarities of a people you don't believe exist?"
Brittany opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. She did want to know what they'd meant by punishment, but she'd be damned if she'd ask now. The Sha‑Ka'ani didn't exist, she wasn't in a spaceship, none of this was the least bit real. But where the hell did they find fifty giants to participate in this bizarre scam?
Chapter Thirty‑three
TEDRA ISN'T FROM SHA‑KA'AN?"
"No indeed, she was hatched on the planet Kystran in the Centura star system, which is fortunate for you, doll. I'm sure she'll set you up with all the modern conveniences from other worlds that she enjoys, which most Sha‑Ka'ani refuse to introduce to their daily lives. Kystran is a major exporter of luxuries, a member of the Centura League of Confederated Planets."
Brittany had settled into a chair near the entrance to the Rec Room, with a monitor on the wall behind her. She wasn't about to proceed any farther into that room with all those giants lounging about, and Dalden not among them. She had felt the chair move under her when she sat on it, shrinking somewhat, but wasn't going to comment on it.
Martha was less reticent, had remarked nonchalantly, "The beds
here adjust to size as well, just so you know. When you're ready to crawl into one usually isn't the time for such explanations."
Brittany hadn't thanked her for the warning. She'd been too busy trying to keep down her unease of being in a room with so many huge men. Those men were ignoring her for the most part, but that didn't reassure her one bit. Some were watching what looked like war movies on really big screens. Others were involved in wrestling matches. Still others were exercising on mats. Actually, most of them were doing things that should have been done in the gym instead....
" They hate the gym, " Martha said, back to reading minds rids. " It's filled with things that are foreign to them, and like Dalden, none of them really like things that are unnatural to their own world. They'll play the war games on the ship's entertainment system, because they understand they are just games, but when it comes to workouts, they'll do it their own way. They'd be practicing with swords like they do at home if I hadn't forbid it."
Swords‑warriors. Brittany still found it incredulous that they'd found this many huge men for this convince‑at‑no‑expense project. All of them were over six and a half feet; one looked even taller than seven!
She had mentioned Dalden's mother to get her mind off what she was viewing. And much as she didn't want to appea
r curious, she couldn't let that "hatched" comment pass.
"Are you going to try to convince me now that your Tedra isn't human?"
"Put the brakes on," Martha said, injecting surprise in her tone. "Where'd you get that from?"
"Your 'hatched' instead of born. Either you don't know that 'hatched' implies a hard‑shelled egg, which I doubt, or you were being cute to confuse the issue."
A good bit of soft chuckling floated about Brittany. "Can't deny I do have my 'cute' moments." More chuckling. "But I was just calling it like it is in this case. Kystram are a species so far
advanced that they long ago did away with natural childbirth as you know it."
"They couldn't have. They'd be extinct, yet you don't talk of them in the past tense."
"They did almost come to extinction during the Great Water Shortage many years ago. They lost most of their plant and animal life, but didn't abandon the planet. They are one of many colony planets founded by the original Ancients more than two thousand years ago, so they got a lot of help from their sister planets. They adapted because of the shortage, created waterless baths, new food sources, oxygen, liquid, and with the bad comes the good. They now have the technology to populate barren, resource‑deprived planets. "
"You get an A‑plus in distraction, Martha."
"Now who's being cute? And I wasn't avoiding the subject, merely supplying a little history. They've done away with natural childbirth for the simple reason that it's painful and dangerous. It also isn't selective breeding, and Kystrani prefer to cultivate intelligence that can better their way of life."
"But how?"
"Give it a little thought," Martha replied, "and your best guess
would probably be right, since your own planet is starting to experiment in the same area."
"Cloning?"
"Close. You call it artificial insemination. The Kystrani took that one step further by eliminating the female from being the holding tank, using man‑made artificial wombs instead. Add to that worldwide birth control that's not left to individual choice, but administered in all food and drink on the planet, and donors from only the most intelligent. The whole process is monitored by Population Control. The children are then raised in Child Centers, where they are tested to determine their best match for life careers."