Zayshul hissed in shock, reaching out to stop him, but M’kou neatly sidestepped her.
“I do know what I’m doing, Doctor,” he reassured her, examining the egg closely. “Get me a towel or something to put inside the bottom of the incubator.”
Automatically she went over to a drawer unit, glancing back uncertainly at M’kou.
“Put it down, M’kou,” Kezule said, his voice taking on an edge. “I told you not to break the shell!”
“Then your child will die,” M’kou said, ignoring the General as he held the egg against his chest and began to tap his claw tip on the faint crack line he’d created. “It needs air or it will suffocate.”
“Leave it alone. If it’s too weak to break the shell, then so be it.” Kezule’s voice was emotionless. He looked at Zayshul as she scrabbled frantically in a drawer. “What was so important in sick bay?” he demanded. “You should have come here immediately the alarm sounded!”
“One of the engineers was badly injured. I had to operate on his hand. I left him with Ghidd’ah as soon as I could.”
M’kou glanced briefly at him before giving the egg another, harder tap. “You don’t want my sister to die—Father,” he said quietly and deliberately as Zayshul ran back with a towel.
Shocked at being addressed so familiarly, Kezule could only stand and watch as Zayshul removed the egg cradle and placed the towel in the base of the incubator.
“In La’shol’s name, I hope you know what you’re doing,” whispered Zayshul as she saw the tiny hole in the egg when M’kou placed it on the towel.
“I checked the databases before we left K’oish’ik, Doctor. You were both too busy to think of everything before we left,” the young Prime said, moving aside as the egg started to rock gently. “This is an accepted medical procedure with Royal hatchings. I’d put the plate of meat in now,” he added.
Kezule walked slowly round to the other side of the incubator. He knew that in a few minutes his life would change forever yet again. When he saw a tiny clawed finger thrust itself through the hole, then curl over the edge of the shell, he felt a brief moment of dizziness. He’d watched several hatchings, but never one of his own.
With a faint cracking sound, the shell around the finger collapsed inward. Then one small hand appeared, and another. The shell fragmented, exposing a tightly-curled green shape that slowly began to move. Large, luminous yellow eyes blinked up at him then the wide mouth opened, tongue flicking out as it emitted a hoarse cry.
Intense hunger filled his mind. Opposite him, Zayshul gasped and reached down for their infant.
His hand instantly stopped hers. “It’ll bite,” he said warningly. “To the bone and beyond. I’ve seen a dozen of these . . .”
“I don’t want to know,” she interrupted, pulling her hand free. “This is our daughter, not some half-feral creature from your past!” She reached down and picked up the smallest piece of bloody meat then offered it to the hatchling.
The tongue flicked out briefly again, then, leaning forward unsteadily, the small female let her tongue touch Zayshul’s hand, then the meat. She overbalanced, falling forward with cries of distress. Instantly Zayshul’s other hand caught her and popped the piece of meat into the open mouth.
The cries stopped instantly as the infant began to chew with obvious pleasure.
Zayshul offered her a second piece of meat. This time, her hand was grasped for support before the hatchling’s head lowered to pick it up.
“Be careful,” said Kezule quietly.
Raising a face wreathed in smiles, Zayshul asked, “Of what? She knows me, Kezule! She knows I’m her mother. Our daughter won’t harm me.”
The words echoed inside his head. A daughter. In his time, at best she’d have been condemned to a life in someone else’s harem, at worst, she’d have been killed as a surplus breeding female. Only sons had any value. Strangely, he was glad they’d had a daughter. The thought of watching another Zayshul grow to maturity and beyond in freedom pleased him. He had sons in plenty, both with him and back on the home world, he didn’t need another.
Tentatively, he reached inside the incubator and ran a finger across the hatchling’s back. She shivered slightly but otherwise ignored him, intent on stuffing her belly with food.
Feelings of pride began to fill him. “She’s small for a female,” he said lamely, taking his hand out.
“They double their size in the first two days,” ventured M’kou, getting a blanket from the nearby crib. “She doesn’t look much smaller than those I saw in the files.”
“So you think your sister is fine?”
M’kou’s expression of surprise made Kezule smile.
“She owes her life to you,” said Zayshul, reaching down to pick up the nearly satiated infant and wrap her in the small blanket M’kou held out to her. “Thank you, M’kou. I can’t thank you enough.”
“I think she’s beautiful,” said M’kou, watching Zayshul cradle her daughter.
“She’s like her mother,” said Kezule, seeing the resemblance between them in the subtle shades of translucent blue and purple on his daughter’s face.
“Just as M’kou is the son most like you,” said Zayshul, stroking her infant’s cheek as its eyelids began to droop.
Startled, Kezule glanced at his son, who looked away in embarrassment. “Really?”
“Of course he is!” said Zayshul, looking up at them. “Why do you continue to pretend you aren’t related? I know how proud of them you are. Today, with the hatching of our daughter, Mayza, would be a good day to start acknowledging your other children.”
“They don’t need me to do that, they’re fully grown,” he murmured, trying to find somewhere to look where he wouldn’t meet either Zayshul’s or M’kou’s gaze.
“Of course they do! They’re proud to be your offspring, no matter how old they are.”
He had to look at M’kou then.
“We’d never presume so much, General,” he murmured, unwilling to raise his head.
Every one of his eighty tank-grown sons was different. One of the best combatants in his training unit before he’d been chosen as his aide, M’kou was indeed a son to be proud of. Their time together had been short, but in that time, his loyalty, attention to every detail, and willingness to do any task asked of him, no matter how trivial seeming, was second to none. It was something he’d never recognzed till now.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he agreed. “M’kou, would you please inform your brothers and sisters about Mayza’s hatching, then inform the rest of the station? We will arrange a private Naming Day Ceremony within the next three days. I expect them to be with us as family.”
“He invites them, M’kou,” Zayshul said, stopping her gentle crooning to her sleeping child. “Say he invites them as family.”
“Yes, Doctor,” said M’kou, a slight smile on his face as he beat a hasty retreat before the General, his father, embarrassed him any further.
Up in his quarters on the hydroponics level, Giyarishis’ head bobbed gently in a satisfied nod as he disengaged himself from Unity. Since the original dose of memory enhancing chemicals, the sand-dweller male was adapting as the Camarilla had planned. It was vital he developed a sense of family unity. Without that, none of the vital and more abstract loyalties to the community he was building could evolve.
As he laid the sleeping kitling down on one of the beds, Kusac looked up at the nurse hovering nearby.
“When you see Doctor Zayshul next, tell her we must discuss matters of the cub’s health as soon as possible,” he said, pulling the cover over his son.
“I’ll tell her, Captain.”
Reluctantly, he left, knowing Shaidan would sleep for several hours. So Kezule and Zayshul had their own child now, had they? Then how could she be Shaidan’s mother? Until now, he’d allowed himself to be diverted by Shaidan from his need to know the truth. No longer.
CHAPTER 4
WHEN Kezule decided to change something, the changes happened fast. Within days
, the military look of the Outpost had altered. Certain areas remained utilitarian and austere; others, like the mess and a newly opened up rec room, acquired ornaments and pictures on the walls—cushions even appeared in some of the easy chairs. All had been donated by the civilian Primes. They changed too, the females in particular, casting off the gray coveralls unless they were working to dress in brighter colors and different styles of clothing.
The General and his wife were seldom to be seen, so Kusac’s desire to meet with Zayshul was constantly frustrated. He had to be content with discussing his son’s possible needs as a young telepath with Ghidd’ah, her second in charge. His meetings with Shaidan went on as before, though his son was quieter, if it were possible, since the hatching of the egg. The atmosphere between them grew more and more strained. Kusac decided to teach him about Shola using his portable comp unit from the Venture II. At first resistant to the idea, gradually Shaidan thawed, absorbing all Kusac could show him. For his part, he learned that though Shaidan’s programming prevented his son from asking questions, if left to operate the comp himself, he’d search for what he wanted to know.
After the first fortnight, the training sessions began to fall into a familiar pattern. With Kezule’s sixteen officer offspring, Kusac and his crew found themselves quickly outclassed by their sheer physical speed and strength. He placed the emphasis of their training instead on problem solving and working together as a team to complete their given task. For this, he requested the use of the unused field areas on the hydroponics level. There, with the help of the land and an irrigation stream, he and his crew were able to divide the area in two and create a variety of challenging scenarios.
For the fourteen half-M’zullians, he had to adopt a totally different approach, but one which also emphasized the need for mutual cooperation and teamwork. He based their training on assault courses set up either in one of the remaining two unused gyms, where they took turns at defending and attacking a flag post, or in the hydroponics level fields. This he coupled with maintenance courses in looking after their weapons and the shuttles on the N’zishok.
The civilian groups, by far the largest units, were much easier to work with. Kezule had assigned them to him exclusively for blocks of four weeks so each group could complete their basic training and discipline before going back to their normal duties in the labs, sick bay, and other nonmilitary areas.
During the days, after meal breaks, he would scan the corridors between the gym and the mess, hoping for a sight of Zayshul. He continued to visit the sick bay every few days, only to be given the same answer each time—the needs of her young daughter were such that she was off duty for the foreseeable future.
Zhal-Rojae 22nd day (November)
Kezule walked slowly round the thirty growth tubes neatly stacked to one side of the disused temple on the Command level. His people had just finished bringing them up from the main landing bay where a TeLaxaudin vessel had deposited them less than two hours ago. It had arrived without warning, landed and unloaded the cargo automatically, then just as abruptly, had left.
“Are they in full working order, Giyarishis?” he asked.
The translator spat some static, then said, “Yes.”
“And the controls for them came as well?”
“Are in room next this one.”
Kezule stopped and regarded the small, almost insectoid-looking alien. “The ship was automated, you say?”
“Pilot only. No translator, no talk you.” The alien turned away from the General, his draperies exuding a scent of anticipation. “I go. Get installed now,” Giyarishis said as he stalked out of the room on his spindly bronze legs.
“Give him what help he needs,” Kezule said to the civilian engineers standing waiting for his orders as he turned to leave the room. Nothing the TeLaxaudin did surprised him these days, but at least the arrival of the tanks meant those of his people who wanted to breed could now do so.
His daughter’s hatching had made many of the females broody, but despite his wife’s assurances as a doctor that they could all carry their own young safely, they refused to even consider it without the growth tanks to which they’d become accustomed. Now they could really start to build a community.
Zhal-Rojae 23rd day (November)
As usual, Kusac left the hydroponics level just before the end of the last session of the day. Banner waited a moment or two before ambling over to Khadui.
“Wind the class up for me, I got to go visit the head.”
He followed Kusac’s scent down the stairs to the Officers’ level and was heading toward the main elevator to the Command level when, rounding a corner, he stopped dead as he saw Kusac join M’kou and Shaidan. Staying out of sight, he strained his ears forward trying to catch what they were saying. He could hear very little, only the odd word before the elevator door opened and closed, then silence.
“The Command elevator is out of bounds,” said a quiet voice from behind him.
He spun round, finding himself face-to-face with one of the Prime females. The one-piece coverall was gray, denoting that she was a civilian.
“I’m looking for the rest rooms,” he said. “Must have taken a wrong turn.”
“I’ll show you,” she said, reaching out to grasp his arm.
As she led him down the corridor opposite, past the side of the sick bay, he was aware of the pressure of her hand on his arm changing, becoming lighter as her fingers stroked at his pelt.
“We have a recreation room, Banner,” she said. “I have your name right, don’t I? You’re the only other black Sholan. You should come there tonight. We have entertainments. Books, games to play, and some of the males are starting to synthesize alcoholic drinks. We also have an ale brewed from the plants in hydroponics. It must be lonely for you all, so far from home and with so few of your own kind here.”
“I’m Banner,” he agreed, resisting the urge to pull his arm away. “We’re all used to working away from home for long periods.”
“The General wants us to mingle with you, get to know you, make your time with us pleasant,” she said, glancing sideways at him, her large green eyes blinking slowly. “We can’t do that if you remain in your quarters when off duty. We’re quite harmless, you know, not like the M’zullian Warriors. I worked with Doctor Zayshul on the Kz’adul in the labs. I’m a civilian, as you would call it. My name’s Ghidd’ah.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, absorbing the information that she’d worked with the Doctor. Maybe she could be a useful contact. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ll see if I can bring our people to the rec room later tonight.”
“Good,” she smiled, stopping beside a door labeled in both Valtegan and Sholan script. “See, we are trying to make you welcome. This is the M’zullians’ area but they’re all on duty just now. The rec room is on the corridor outside your quarters and is the second door on your right when heading for the main elevator. I’ll see you later, then. Say, in two hours?”
He nodded and carefully retrieved his arm. “Make it three,” he said. He wanted to speak to Kusac first.
When Banner got back to the hydro level, he found the other three waiting for him.
“We need to talk,” said Khadui.
“Very well,” he said. He’d been expecting trouble for several days. “I suggest we get our meals and take them back to our communal lounge. Agreed?”
Fifteen minutes later, the already small living area seemed to have shrunk as they sat round the dining table.
“Spit it out then, Khadui,” Banner said, using his fork to spear a couple of chunks of synthesized meat. “What’s bothering you?”
“We want to know what Kusac’s doing to get the cub back. Whenever we see Shaidan, he’s trailing after General Kezule. All we seem to do is train the Primes.”
“Kusac’s told you, so have I, that training them is part of what he’s here to do,” Banner replied, choosing some of the vegetables this time.
“What we’re here to do,” correcte
d Dzaou.
“No,” said Banner. “Don’t forget we insisted on accompanying him. Kezule only wanted Kusac because of his AlRel skills.”
Khadui gave a small growl of exasperation. “Same difference. Do you know what he’s doing, Banner?”
“I know,” he said calmly, putting his fork down to dip his chunk of bread into the gravy. “And when you need to be told, you will be.”
Dzaou snorted his disbelief. “That’s crap and you know it. You’re as much in the dark as we are!”
“You think the Captain’s going to confide in you with your attitude, Dzaou?” he asked, using the bread to help scoop up a forkful of vegetables. “You only follow his orders when it suits you as it is.”
“He’s no longer our Captain,” said Dzaou. “This isn’t a real mission, it’s his own crusade.”
Banner glanced up at him as he put his fork down and reached for his hot herbal drink. “You think rescuing a Sholan cub isn’t something we should all be working together on? The only reason it isn’t a mission is because Stronghold knew nothing about it before we left.”
“I’ve no problem with Kusac as Captain,” said Jayza, the youngest member of the group, speaking for the first time.
Banner acknowledged his comment with a barely perceptible twitch of his ear.
“Shut up, Jayza. That’s not what I meant, Banner, and you know it,” said Dzaou angrily. “Our original mission was to get what Kezule had by any means possible and bring it back! That means this cub, too!”
“That’s what Kusac is doing,” said Banner, picking up his fork again. “The means he’s using are those Kezule has asked for, namely training his people and helping him set them up as a viable community. Why risk all our lives in a firefight when it isn’t necessary? It isn’t as if Kezule is refusing to give us the cub.”
“He’s got a point,” agreed Khadui. “No need to escalate the situation if Kezule’s being reasonable. And Kusac is keeping Banner briefed as to what’s happening.”
Between Darkness and Light Page 13
