“He’ll need more than the seventy-four he has here,” said Banner.
“Not a problem. He’s prepared to visit Ch’almuth, the fourth world, to increase the population here. Jayza, I want you to search through their cultural databases. Get recordings of anything that might be useful to us in trying to work out how their current society is constructed, and anything on their far past. I’ll speak to Doctor Zayshul to get authorization for you. Meanwhile, we’ve work to do,” he said, getting up and walking over to the desk unit to pick up two of the Prime readers lying there.
“I want two groups, one in each gym. Banner, you’ll be with me and Jayza,” he said, handing Banner one of the units. “Khadui, you’re in charge, with Dzaou to assist you.” He handed the older Sholan the other. “I’ve mapped out the program we’re following. It’s been compiled based on what Kezule wants us to do. The M’zullians we treat as we did the ones on Shola—keep them occupied with team activities and hard training. Kezule’s sixteen we stretch. The rest need very basic training as they’re civilians. Kezule’s running eight-hour shifts and rotating personnel fortnightly for now until they’ve rerouted power from the nonessential areas of the Outpost to the sections we’re using. It also lets us get our own regime of training established with each group.”
A siren sounded, repeating itself three times before stopping. “Time to go. That’s the signal for shift change. We’re meeting the first group in the port side gym where we’ll split them into two classes. Kezule says they’ve found some training equipment on sublevel three. When his people have had time to unpack it for us, they’ll bring it up to the gyms.”
“How long is our working day?” asked Jayza as they got to their feet and made for the door.
“Four hours before second meal and three after it. We have an hour to eat at their twelfth hour, then finish at seventeen hundred. The rest of the day is ours. Third meal is at eighteen hundred hours.”
“Our quarters aren’t as spacious,” said Dzaou, looking round Kusac’s suite. “No food dispenser either.”
“You’re not an officer,” said Banner, hustling him through the doorway.
“These are all officers’ quarters,” he said, following them out and locking the door with his key card. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re berthed on the Officers’ level with the Prime officers, for our safety, Kezule said.”
“Kezule says too much if you ask me,” he heard Dzaou mutter quietly.
M’kou was waiting in the corridor outside for him. “Captain, we found thirty-six neuro-tagged suits and weapons for combat training. I had them taken to your office in the gymnasium. The General thought they’d add some reality to your training sessions.”
Kusac nodded. “I’m sure we’ll find a use for them.”
“I also came to tell you . . .”
The rest of what M’kou was saying was lost as the siren went off again. This time the single tone lasted for twenty seconds before stopping.
“The comm system is working again,” M’kou said with satisfaction. “That was the signal for everyone to report to the main assembly hall. The General asked me to bring you and your crew.”
“Why?” asked Dzaou.
Kezule’s aide hesitated momentarily. “There was a fight in the mess half an hour ago when one of the M’zullian Warriors attacked a civilian male. He’s being disciplined and the General wants everyone to witness it as a warning that fighting will not be tolerated. He wanted to be sure you attended too.”
It was a reminder that they were subject to the same discipline. As they followed M’kou down the corridor then filed into the assembly hall with the rest of the Primes, Dzaou’s pelt began to rise.
“Public punishments are barbaric,” he muttered.
“Every military body has them,” said Banner. “Even us.” He glanced at Kusac. “Kaid was subjected to one when Ghezu expelled him.”
Unbidden, Kaid’s memories of the event filled his mind as if they were his own. “That was psychological,” he murmured, more than a little shaken.
“This is physical as well,” said M’kou quietly as they stood at the back of the hall. “The General must maintain a harsh discipline over the M’zullians. It’s the second time we’ve had trouble from them. But it’s not barbaric. The soldier, Chazukk, won’t actually be harmed.”
“What do you do with him?” asked Khadui.
“He’ll be confined in the punishment booth while a variant of a sleep tape is played. Since his crime was fighting over a female, likely the General will order that a tape of a male being savaged by females in one of the old style harems be used.”
The crowd was hushed. He studied the faces, looking for Zayshul, checking for her scent amid the myriad ones present.
“Won’t the General be here?” he asked as he counted up the number of military uniforms in the crowd. It came to under half.
“For this, yes. It’s the first public punishment.”
To one side of them, a door opened and a M’zullian, wearing wrist restraints was brought in. He seemed unconcerned, glancing round at the assembled people with a look of indifference on his face.
Behind him, flanked by two of his Prime officers, came General Kezule. Kusac saw with relief that Shaidan wasn’t with him. He noticed the booth now, dominating the left-hand side of the wall opposite them. About seven feet tall, it was made of some transparent material.
Kezule stopped in front of the gathering, waiting until the prisoner had been shackled to the rear wall of the booth by his neck, wrists, ankles, and waist and the guards had stepped back, one to either side.
“We’re only a small community,” began Kezule, speaking in Sholan, “but even one as small as we presently are needs rules by which to live. You all know what they are, they’re posted on the doors of your quarters and in all public places. Some of you civilians might think them harsh. They’re not. We’re predominantly a military group, living on an outpost in one of the most hostile environments known—space. Lack of discipline out here can cost lives. The rules exist for your protection. Break them and you will be punished accordingly. This is the second incident over a female. There will be no more.” He stopped and swept his gaze over the gathering.
“Females have the right to choose their mates. No male will gainsay that right by any means, including violence. You’re all aware of sleep tapes and have used them to acquire skills. You may not know they can be used for punishment as they were in my time.” He gestured to the officer next to him. “Let them see the holo.”
Behind Kezule, high up on the wall, a large area began to change color, become lighter. As the images began to form, at first Kuzac didn’t recognize them. Then he realized it was the breeding room at Khezy’ipik, deep in the heart of the Ghuulgul desert on Shola.
“I don’t think anyone here is unaware that in my time, females of our species were considered feral and kept locked in secure quarters. Unless they were heavily sedated, it was suicidal for any male to approach them,” continued Kezule, his voice taking on a cold edge. “Then the ultimate penalty for breaking the military code of discipline was to be thrown in with them. This tape will be used for Chazukk’s punishment.”
He heard what Kezule said, but his attention was wholly focused on the screen, not the General. Briefly, he glanced at the nearest female, comparing those in the holo to her. About one-third broader and taller than their slightly-built modern counterparts, the ancient females were fearsome indeed. There were eight of them. Most wore nothing but a piece of cloth wrapped around their waists, some were even naked. A door opened and a Valtegan male was thrown in.
While one part of his mind dispassionately watched the females attack the male just as Carrie’s Earth felines would have taunted and played with their prey before finally killing it, the other was taking in other physical details, noting how the dappled markings on their spines spread outward at the small of the back toward their hips. He’d seen the same markings on Zayshul’s back at dinner the night
before but this was his first glimpse of a nearly naked Valtegan or Prime female. When she’d come to him on the Kz’adul, she’d turned off the light as soon as she’d entered his room; he had no idea what she looked like undressed.
The images on the screen vanished abruptly, bringing him back to the reality of the hall and the scent of fear he could have cut with a knife.
“Punishment tapes are not passive,” said Kezule. “You will experience the pain firsthand—the slashing claws, the teeth—everything, except the final death of the male.” The General’s voice was hard now. “And it will be repeated again and again until the duration of your punishment is over. It was said in my time that three hours of this would either kill you or drive you insane. Chazukk has been sentenced to one hour. You can ask him later if he enjoyed the experience.”
Gesturing to the officers behind him to continue, Kezule left. A low buzz of conversation broke out from those around them as the two approached the prisoner and opened a case which one of them carried. Everyone was shocked by what they’d seen, particularly the females.
“A portable projector,” M’kou offered as Kusac watched a broad circular band taken from the case and fitted over the soldier’s head. “It’s normally used as a training aid.”
When the officer stepped back, he could see that the small visor covered Chazukk’s eyes. Pulling an ID tag from the pocket of his fatigues, he passed it through a reader set in the frame of the booth, waiting until the faint glow of a force field established itself before he and his companion left. The guards remained.
In the booth, the prisoner had begun to move his head, trying to shake it to dislodge the device. Then, with a cry of terror, his arms and legs began to jerk as he pulled futilely against the restraints.
Sickened, Kusac looked away. It reminded him too much of the pain he’d suffered wearing J’koshuk’s punishment collar.
“He’s a M’zullian, Captain,” said M’kou. “Dominating them physically is our only control over them, and Chazukk is their leader. Would you rather the General had him physically punished? When this is over, within an hour, two at most, he’ll be back on duty. The pain won’t last.”
“And how long will his nightmares last?” Dzaou asked, an underlying growl to his otherwise inflectionless voice.
“They’re not like us,” said M’kou, still looking at Kusac. “They were bred to fight and kill, not to think. You can’t appeal to their more civilized side: they don’t have one, just as their sires didn’t.”
“What were you bred for?” he asked softly.
The large yellow eyes didn’t blink as M’kou returned his gaze steadily. “To lead, Captain, like our sire.”
A siren broke the tension as it blared out two short notes then stopped. “We’re free to leave,” said M’kou quietly as the prisoner’s cries became high-pitched shrieks of pain and anguish.
They had to file past the booth as they left. The force field did little to keep the stench of fear, and worse, contained. Like everyone else, he averted his eyes as he passed.
“It’s barbaric!” Dzaou hissed, rounding on Kusac once they were outside. “Punishment is one thing, degrading and humiliating him in public like that is another!”
“That’s the point of the punishment,” said Khadui. “He’ll not find it easy to lead them after this.”
“Those we taught at the Warrior Guild must be very different from the ones here,” said Jayza soberly. “We can’t judge without knowing all the facts. Maybe they behave differently among their own kind.”
“Banner, take over. I need to speak to Kezule. I’ll join you in the gym later,” Kusac said abruptly.
“What’re you doing?” demanded Dzaou.
“My job,” he replied grimly, heading down the corridor for the elevator down to the Command level. He was stopped at the security office and had to wait impatiently until they’d contacted the Security chief, M’zynal, to authorize his visit.
“What is it, Kusac?” asked Kezule, not bothering to look up from the papers he was reading as the Sholan was escorted into the General’s office. “I’m rather busy at the moment.”
“You wanted my advice,” he said, glancing round for Shaidan but not finding him. “I’ve come to give it to you.”
“Already? You’ve barely been here a day.” Kezule continued scanning the document he was holding.
He turned to leave. “Why bring me here and hold my cub hostage for my cooperation if you don’t want to listen to my advice?”
Kezule sighed and handed the piece of paper to the officer standing beside him. “This looks fine. Implement it now,” he said.
The officer saluted and left.
“Very well, Kusac, I’m listening,” said Kezule, turning to look at him.
“You can’t run this Outpost as an exclusively military base. You’re terrifying your civilian population.”
“They’ll get used to it,” said Kezule, pulling out his chair and sitting down at the desk.
“Will they? They’re Primes, Kezule. Pacifists incapable of fighting. You’re their only experience of the military,” he said, coming farther into the room. “My bet is they didn’t sign up for a life in basic camp, but for something that was more intellectually challenging. They’ll only be happy playing soldiers for a time, then they’ll become dissatisfied and scared, want to go home, and that’ll infect your Warriors. Your leadership will be seen as weak, able to be physically challenged—and you know where that’ll lead.”
“Go on. You’ve caught my interest.”
“Separate the two groups. Run the civilian side as a community with a stake in its own future. Have them elect their own ruling council and make up their own set of laws. All of the females apart from two are civilians. You need them to create the next generation. Keep them happy and they’ll build a community, it’s what females do—bear young, nurture them, make friends, communicate with each other. You’re a General, you know how to deploy troops; let the females do what they do best. Make it their mission.”
“Zayshul said something similar,” Kezule said, watching him thoughtfully. “What guidelines should I give them?”
“How many are there?”
“About forty. We’re seventy-four in all. I brought the M’zullians only because I can control them, the Primes can’t. They weren’t any part of my original plan.”
“Tell them to choose about ten of their number for a ruling council and let them take it from there. I suggest you let your troops know they have to obey the civilian laws too. Have your military people got separate quarters from the civilians?”
The General nodded. “They’re on the port side. You’re quartered there next to most of my officers for your own safety, as I said. The M’zullians are under surveillance on the starboard side. Don’t turn your back on them, Kusac, even I don’t trust them. They’ve enough intelligence to be dangerous. I don’t know why your people had no trouble from the twenty on Shola.”
He shrugged, a very Human gesture. “We were living on the Warrior Guild estate, among several hundred other students who looked to us as their superiors. It breeds an atmosphere of learning. We also gave them challenging leisure activities, team games and such, building a need for interdependence in them.”
“My own training emphasized individual attainment,” Kezule murmured, his eyes taking on a distant look for a moment. “Thank you. And, Kusac, I appreciate you taking your job seriously.”
“You’re letting me see my son,” he said, turning to leave.
“Kusac, we could make this process much quicker if you’d allow us to do a mental scan of your mind and have sleep tapes made. It would give a few of my officers your knowledge and experience of different alien cultures.”
“No,” he said shortly. “I’m not letting your medics near me. They did too much damage the last time.”
“You forget Doctor Zayshul saved your life,” Kezule said gently. “It’s not an invasive procedure. They just connect you to a scanner.”
“About as far as you trust me, Kusac,” Kezule replied. “You should consider it, for your son’s sake.”
“I should have expected you to try and renege on our deal,” he said slowly, turning to face the General again. A scan was impossible. They’d realize almost immediately that he had his Talent back.
“I’m not,” said Kezule. “M’kou will come for you after your afternoon session. I can’t force you to have a scan, Kusac. An unwilling subject would be useless. Just consider it.”
“You’ve had my answer,” he said, turning back to the door. “Don’t bother mentioning it to me again.”
“Captain,” said M’kou as Kusac joined him just before the end of the day. “I’m to take you down to the Command level. Shaidan’s waiting for you in one of the small offices with Doctor Zayshul. The General thought that today you might like to eat your evening meal with him.”
“With Kezule and Doctor Zayshul?” he asked as they stopped beside the guard at the elevator.
“No, only Shaidan, Captain. The General promised you that time alone together,” M’kou reminded him as the elevator door opened and they stepped inside.
He said nothing, suddenly aware of the tension in his stomach. “What’s Shaidan like?” he asked abruptly. “Is there a child under all that programming?”
M’kou looked at him in surprise. “I can’t answer that, Captain,” he said. “I’ve only known Gaylla.”
Kusac looked at him. “Gaylla?”
“A little gray-colored cub that the Directorate was going to have killed because she was slower than the others,” said M’kou as the doors opened again. “The General asked for her, pretending that he wanted her as a pet. She was delivered to us several days before we raided the Directorate to rescue the others.” M’kou gestured to his left. “This way, Captain.”
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