Dream Called Time by S. L. Viehl Page A

noticed his Jorenian spleen was taking up more space than it should. “What caused the enlargement here?”
    “An immune system response to the presence of his Jorenian augmentations,” ChoVa said. “Reinstituting regular doses of antirejection drugs has stabilized it.”
    I punched up specific scans of the spleen and studied the data, which knotted my stomach. Not taking the meds, even for the short time that his regime had been interrupted, had resulted in a significant amount of damage. It couldn’t be reversed and made him more vulnerable to infection. “What other organs and vessels were compromised?”
    “Infection has scarred his lungs and cardiac organs.” She magnified the affected areas to show me the damage. “He has also suffered several seizures, both from exposure to the plague of memory and from immune-response enzymatic spikes.”
    “I’ll need to see all the medical records on him, complete or not, and a full list of the drugs you’ve administered before we decide what direction to take.” I thought for a moment. “We should draw his blood and see if we can synthesize more. I want enough for at least three complete transfusions.”
    “Surgery is not practical,” ChoVa said. “His body is too dependent on the augmentations.”
    “No, we can’t cut them out of him,” I agreed. “However, that’s not the only option. Have you run a complete microcellular series?”
    “Yes, but the results indicate the alterformation was not entirely induced by standard viral methods.” She sounded frustrated now. “We cannot discern what SrrokVar did to accomplish the genomeld.”
    “We will.” That monster wasn’t getting the better of me again, not from the grave.
    “I do not understand what any of this means,” PyrsVar complained.
    “It means you must be quiet and do as you are told,” ChoVa snapped. “Or we will make errors in your treatment, and you will die.”
    “All things die.” He folded his arms. “Are you so easily distracted?”
    “I’ll explain this to you later,” I promised him before ChoVa could reply. “Right now you do need to let us work.” I stood. “Healer Apalea, I’d like to admit PyrsVar to your HouseClan medical facility for a preliminary workup. We’ll also need access to a genetics lab and some staff to assist. Would the Adan be willing to accommodate all that?”
    She made a reassuring gesture. “The Ruling Council has indicated that you are to have whatever you deem necessary. I will personally supervise the resource management and act as official liaison.”
    “The Hanar will wish to be consulted about this,” one of the delegates predicted.
    “I’ll deal with TssVar personally,” I told him, enjoying the way his eyes bulged. I turned back to Apalea. “I’d like to work with a team of doctors and nurses who have experience in treating genetically compromised patients. ChoVa, I hope you’re not planning to return to Vtaga anytime soon, because I need your knowledge and experience on this case.”
    She inclined her head. “I will be happy to stay and provide whatever assistance you require, Namesake.”
    “She would not go even if you asked her to,” PyrsVar said. “She enjoys watching me suffer.”
    “Not as often as I wish,” ChoVa muttered.
    The Hsktskt rarely joked about anything, but I didn’t think they were serious. In fact I was picking up something else from both of them, in the way they looked at each other and the distinct lack of viciousness behind their cold words. It wasn’t friendship; I could see that they weren’t good buddies. Then I understood. Somehow the daughter of the supreme ruler over the Hsktskt Faction and a renegade male trapped in the body of a warm-blooded offworlder had developed feelings for each other.
    These two were in love.
    I turned to Apalea. “Before we do anything, I need to contact the Hanar on Vtaga.”

    An hour later I sat down in front of an interplanetary-communications array. I didn’t