Between Darkness and Light

by Lisanne Norman

  “Did you ask them to bring her?” Zayshul asked, looking up from her monitor screen at him.

  “No,” he muttered, picking up a reader pad and glancing at the data on it. “They don’t know our scanners are that accurate. Officially we only know about Kusac and the male who came with him last time.” He slung the pad down, making it clatter on the work surface.

  “Would you take a female with you into similar circumstances?” she asked calmly, rescuing her reader. “I think not. You’re being unreasonable, Kezule. What have you done with them?”

  He glared at her, but recognized the sense in what she said. “M’zynal is showing them to their quarters, then Shartoh will take them on a tour of the Officers’ Level. Don’t worry, Zayshul, your Sholan is safe,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. “I don’t intend to harm him.”

  Giyarishis began to hum. “Females you wanting? I get, maybe.”

  “What?” demanded Kezule, turning to look at the small being perched on the flat topped stool beside his wife. “You can get Sholan females? How?” he demanded.

  The TeLaxaudin’s mandibles clicked and he lifted a delicate hand to brush against them. A burst of untranslatable static was all that came from the speaker.

  Kezule opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Zayshul laid a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.

  “There’s no point,” she said. “His reply is untranslatable. The language barrier is greater than you’d think.”

  “Get me female Sholans,” Kezule said. “Get the Human mate of Kusac if you can!”

  “Humans no get,” said the translator as the scent from the TeLaxaudin’s perfumed draperies grew stronger and sharper. “Female Sholans take time. Maybe can, maybe not. Wait must you. Better get Ch’almuthians.” The TeLaxaudin stretched out his lower limbs and climbed down from his stool, stalking over to the other side of the room to check on another piece of apparatus.

  Kezule had been around Giyarishis long enough now to know that the strong scent he’d left behind denoted displeasure. He turned back to Zayshul. “Dammit! Why does he keep doing that to me?”

  “Don’t have him bring Sholan females to us, Kezule,” she said. “If you’re not careful, you’ll have Kusac’s people tracking us down.”

  “I know what I’m doing, Zayshul,” he said, a touch of coldness replacing the anger in his voice.

  Sighing, she turned back to her work. “Shaidan, wait in the sick bay with the duty nurse, please. Why are you inviting them to join us for the evening meal, Kezule?” she asked.

  This time, he managed to hide his surprise. Incidents like this were happening more frequently these days, reinforcing his suspicions about her possible mental abilities. “I may have forced them to return to us, but I know from my dealings with them that I can’t force them to cooperate. They might, if they believe they’re guests.”

  “Not Kusac,” she said quietly. “Not when you’re holding his son hostage like this. Let the child go, Kezule . . .”

  “I’ve told you before not to discuss this in front of him!” he hissed angrily, glancing at the cub now standing out of earshot in the other room. “The harder you push me, the more determined I am to keep him!”

  “Each other you are needing,” said Giyarishis’ translator, making them both jump and turn round to face him. “Not antagonize. Need skills he has.”

  Kezule stared at the TeLaxaudin, annoyed by the other’s ability to sneak up on him. “I’m showing great restraint, Giyarishis. In my time, for what Kusac and his mate did to me, I would have had their hides flayed off their bodies, then fed what still lived to hatchlings!”

  “Already got revenge you did. On his daughter and sister. Tortured her mate. Forget not this. He not. He want do same you. No good either you each skinless is.”

  Kezule hissed angrily, as much at Zayshul’s nervous laugh as at the TeLaxaudin’s words. “How the hell do you know what he thinks?” he demanded, then stopped abruptly, remembering their visit to the TeLaxaudin at the City of Light and how the ones there had paralyzed them both without any discernible means to do so. He needed to deal carefully with these powerful and unpredictable allies.

  “I took no revenge on them, or pleasure in forcing the male to do my bidding with the slave collar, Giyarishis,” he said quietly. “He was brave, a worthy opponent, but not one I had a quarrel with. Circumstances forced me to do it in my efforts to escape. It’s Kusac and his wife I want revenge on. Zayshul, you’ll be at the meal and you’ll wear one of those court dresses. The rest will take care of itself!” He turned on his heel and left, gesturing to Shaidan to follow as he strode past him.

  Same day

  M’zynal had been right. By the time they’d docked at Kij’ik and been taken to their new crew quarters, they’d been glad to see regular beds, even though the mattresses were still the same. The tour of the Outpost had been educational. Even though barely half of it was in use, Kusac had quickly realized that Kij’ik, like Haven, had been part of the Valtegan Empire’s early warning network, only many times larger than Haven. He was sure this had been one of the major command posts. At the end of the tour, they were taken past the main elevator security post to the level below, one even more heavily guarded, Kusac noticed as they emerged. They were escorted through a series of locked iris doors to a comfortable lounge where they were left to await the arrival of the General and his staff. Unable to settle down, they ignored the sofas and chairs and remained standing.

  “See the screen?” he heard Dzaou say quietly to Khadui. “I noticed one in every room we saw, and in all the public areas. They certainly liked to keep an eye on everyone!”

  But it was Banner who voiced what was in both their minds.

  “Kusac, was it me or was the first scout ship of Kezule’s somewhat old-fashioned by comparison, just like here?” his Second asked quietly as a couple of Prime stewards went back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, obviously preparing it for the evening meal.

  “It was old,” he agreed, keeping his voice equally low and turning his back on the other three crew members. “A recovered vessel left over from the Fall. Just as this is an outpost from their old Empire, part of the network Haven and our other three bases once belonged to.”

  “What else have you discovered?” Banner asked, giving him a long look.

  “There’s a TeLaxaudin here,” he replied, aware that he was risking revealing what Banner had already guessed about his returning Talent. “I can smell him.” And no dampers anywhere, he thought to himself.

  “Can you find out any more?” Banner asked after a small silence.

  “Prime minds are almost as closed as those of the Valtegans we met on Keiss, but they’re just as capable of noticing me, Banner, were I able to read them. Kezule specified I bring no telepaths with me because he hates them. Our best chance for information is Doctor Zayshul. Your job is to continue keeping a watch on Dzaou,” he said. “His xenophobia and paranoia worry me.”

  “I will, and I’ve had a word with him. He’s not stupid, Kusac, not when a cub’s life is at stake.”

  “He’d better not be. I’ll kill him before I’ll let him endanger that kitling.” He had to fight to keep the emotion out of his voice.

  “Why does Kezule really want you here, Kusac?” his Second asked after a moment or two.

  “That’s my concern,” he said shortly. “We play it the way Kezule wants for now.”

  “Isn’t this something of a turnaround for you?”

  “You said it yourself, Banner. There’s a life at stake here,” he replied, turning away. “A young Sholan life.” If he said it often enough, he might be able to forget the other half of Shaidan’s parentage.

  The door into the lounge hissed quietly open and Kezule, followed by Doctor Zayshul and a younger male entered.

  “Welcome to Kij’ik, Captain Aldatan,” Kezule said in almost perfect Sholan. “This is my aide, M’kou, and I believe you’ve all met my wife, Zayshul. I trust your accommodations here a
re acceptable?”

  “Very comfortable, for a prison,” he said, trying not to stare past Kezule at the Doctor. He’d only ever seen her in a uniform and it came as something of a shock to see her wearing a long, elegant dress of some soft silvery gray material. Even as he realized he was staring at her, he pulled his attention back to the General and the other Prime officers who were now joining them.

  Kezule’s eye ridges raised slightly. “Hardly a prison,” he said. “Do introduce me to your crew.”

  “Banner, my Second,” he said shortly, trying to ignore the barrage of scents he could now smell as he indicated the only other black-pelted male present. “Khadui, my comms officer.”

  The older male inclined his gray head. “General,” he murmured.

  “Jayza, my engineering officer, and Dzaou, weapons.”

  Jayza, his greeting barely audible, flicked his ears back into his brown hair, moving unconsciously closer to Khadui. Dzaou said nothing but the tan-colored hair and fur around his head and shoulders began to rise in a display of aggression.

  Banner was at his side instantly, rumbling his own anger. “We’re here to do a job, Brother Dzaou,” he said quietly in the Highland language of Stronghold, hand closing on the offender’s shoulder. “Keep your personal feelings to yourself.”

  Kezule raised a brow curiously at Kusac. “He should be beyond the impetuosity of youth at his age,” he murmured.

  Kusac shot him a startled look.

  “I’ve made it my business to study your species since we last met. Keep him in line, Kusac. Discipline on Kij’ik is military, and everyone is subject to it, with no exceptions.”

  “I’ll discipline my own people if I need to, Kezule.”

  “I said no exceptions. Those are my rules. If you don’t like them, you’re free to leave,” said Kezule with deceptive mildness, turning away from him as he took his wife by the arm. “I’ll have the N’zishok return you to the rendezvous any time you want. Now enough of this. Let’s go through to the dining room.”

  Fuming, Kusac followed him into the dining room, heading for the far end of the table. He wanted to be as far away from Kezule—and Zayshul—as possible. The General knew damned well he couldn’t walk out and leave his son behind.

  “No,” said Kezule, taking his seat at the head, Zayshul on his right. “Sit beside us, Kusac. Next to my wife.”

  He hesitated, catching the Doctor’s eyes briefly for the first time. There was a slightly haunted look in them. She wanted his company as little as he wanted hers. Walking slowly back along the length of the table, he reluctantly took the seat beside her.

  “Where’s the cub, Kezule?” he asked abruptly. “Before I agree to cooperate, I insist on examining him and making sure he’s well and unharmed.”

  “I don’t abuse children in any way Kusac,” said Kezule, a hiss of anger in his voice. “On Shola, I had your daughter in my grasp and did nothing to her, remember that! As for the cub, you’ll do me the courtesy of leaving business until after we’ve eaten.”

  His anger flared again, but he forced it back. As Kezule’s unwilling guest he had no option but to accept his host’s decision.

  Surprisingly, two of Kezule’s officers were female and one, Zhalmo, was seated immediately to Kusac’s left. Surrounded by the scents of Zhalmo and the Doctor, he found it difficult to keep his mind on the light conversation in which Kezule was determined to engage him. It confused the hell out of him to find himself drawn to them both. The food was good, but he had little appetite to enjoy it. Offered wine, he refused it, sticking to the jug of water nearby. His senses were disturbed enough by the closeness of the two females without alcohol.

  At first, even his enhanced sense of smell couldn’t tell the two females’ scents apart. The difference, when he found it, was subtle, one he couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew it was there. At the far end of the table, where the other female officer sat, he could see that Banner and the rest were coping well. Thankfully, Dzaou was confining himself to growled, monosyllabic answers.

  Eventually, the interminable meal was over and they rose to follow the General back out into the small lounge. When Zayshul stood up and turned round, he found himself staring at her exposed back. The dappled iridescent patterns on her skin fascinated him, and he found the desire to reach out and touch them overwhelming.

  Zayshul swung round in confusion, bumping into him and almost losing her balance. Instinctively, he grabbed hold of her waist, steadying her. Realizing he was touching bare flesh, he let go of her as if stung.

  “Apologies,” he murmured automatically as she spun away from him with a smothered exclamation of shock.

  As he watched her push her way through the other young officers into the lounge, he stood there trying to make sense of the signals he’d picked up from her. For one brief moment, she’d leaned into his touch, almost welcoming it. Suddenly aware of being watched, he turned round. As he did, Zhalmo moved forward and took hold of his arm. Beyond her, he could see M’kou regarding him thoughtfully.

  “You knew the General’s wife on the Kz’adul, didn’t you?” she said, deftly turning him back toward the door and drawing him with her into the lounge. “I heard about your dreadful experiences. Nothing like that could have happened on a military ship.”

  He made a polite sound, his attention divided between concern for Zayshul, and M’kou’s continued interest in him.

  “I hadn’t realized how soft your body covering is,” said Zhalmo, her hand stroking the exposed area of his wrist.

  “Pelt,” he said absently, looking around the knots of males for Zayshul as they came to a stop near the center of the room. Her scent was still strong in the air but he couldn’t see her.

  He was barely aware of Zhalmo removing her hand, but when he felt her touch his neck, she had his undivided attention. Grasping her wrist, he pulled her hand away.

  “Never touch a Sholan there,” he said, ears flattening in embarrassment. “It’s taboo, forbidden—unless you’re a family member or a lover.”

  “Or a doctor,” said Zhalmo, looking past him as she freed her hand from his.

  He froze, the sound of low male laughter making him turn round. In front of him, the young Primes had parted, leaving him facing Kezule, and Zayshul.

  “It seems our females find you attractive, Kusac,” said Kezule, mouth widening in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Think yourself lucky. You’ll not lack for company during your stay with us.”

  The General stood beside the sofa on which Zayshul, her face a pale green unmoving mask, was sitting. The patches of iridescent color round her eyes looked livid by comparison.

  “For us, touching a female’s lower back, not her neck, is an act of intimacy,” Kezule continued, resting his hand on his wife’s neck. “I find the differences between our people interesting. As I’m sure my wife does.” The look on the General’s face was Challenging in any species.

  Kezule knew about him and Zayshul! He fought to keep his ears upright, thanking Vartra that at least the instinctive flicking of his tail was concealed within his robe. Between Zayshul and the cub, Kezule had him trapped like a jegget in a snare—and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

  “Where’s the cub?” he heard Dzaou demand in the silence that followed. “Our Captain said you’d get no cooperation from us until we saw him.”

  “Ah, the cub,” said Kezule. “Thank you for reminding me. Dzaou, isn’t it? M’kou, bring Shaidan in, if you please. He’s waiting in the corridor. You’ll be pleased to know, Kusac, that he’s been quite an asset to my staff.”

  Heart racing, Kusac watched M’kou go to the doorway and gesture to someone outside. There was a faint scuffing sound, as of someone getting to their feet, then his son appeared.

  Looking neither to left nor right, Shaidan walked across the room to the General. Dressed in a white tunic, amid the uniformed Primes, he appeared even younger and more vulnerable than before.

  Aware of his crew gath
ering behind him, Kusac glanced at Zayshul. Ever since they’d touched, his need to know more about her relationship to his son had been growing. Flesh to flesh contact carried potent messages and he’d sensed her deep concern for him and the cub. But her face betrayed nothing, and she refused to meet his eyes. Was Shaidan her son too? How had the Directorate gotten hold of him? Despite the risk, while everyone was watching Shaidan, gently he reached for her mind. Instantly, his torc began to vibrate warningly before suddenly blocking all but his passive abilities.

  Shaidan’s reaction as he stopped beside Kezule was immediate—his head raised fractionally, ears widening and swiveling toward his father.

  Kusac’s heart missed a beat as he saw that the metal psychic damper collar round his son’s neck was missing. If it hadn’t been for the torc’s intervention . . .

  Kezule’s hand went from Zayshul’s neck to the cub’s shoulder. “What is it?” the Valtegan demanded, bending down to the child’s level. “Did you sense something?”

  “No, General,” Shaidan said quietly after a moment’s hesitation. “It was a stray thought, nothing more.”

  Zayshul closed her eyes briefly, the knuckles on her hands whitening as she clenched them in her lap.

  Vartra’s bones! His son was a fully awakened telepath and Kezule was using him to read them! He tried to suppress his automatic snarl of rage but failed and it came out strangled.

  Kezule glanced at him but appeared to be satisfied with Shaidan’s answer. “Tell your people to sit down, Kusac,” he said, straightening up. “I won’t have the child intimidated by them. You may speak to him, but no one else.”

  “Do it,” Kusac said, half turning to Banner.

  “You won’t have him intimidated?” echoed Dzaou, stepping impulsively forward. “Then why do you keep him . . . ?”

  Kusac immediately backhanded Dzaou, sending him reeling into the others. “Contain him, Banner,” he ordered, not bothering to look round. There was a muffled curse from Dzaou, followed by the sound of his crew moving back.