Between Darkness and Light

by Lisanne Norman

  “He didn’t see him while we were on the hunt. You can explain it to him, he’ll listen to you.”

  “Kezule! It’s unfair of you to leave me to do this!”

  “He’s a Warrior, Zayshul. He’ll understand I couldn’t leave Shaidan. If the positions were reversed, I assure you, he’d do the same. I have to go now if I hope to be back in two days,” he said, heading for the door.

  “Taking Shaidan will only slow you down,” she called out, rising. “You know how dependent on us he is because of the programming. Leave him here, Kezule!”

  He hesitated. She was right. He’d need all his attention and time for the Zan’droshi. “I’ll leave him with M’kou.”

  “You’ll need a bag packed.”

  “M’kou’s seeing to that now,” he said over his shoulder.

  Giyarishis’ mandibles twitched slightly in quiet satisfaction. There had been no need for him to intervene with the sand-dweller. Now it was the Hunter’s turn.

  Raised voices made her look up from the blood samples she was testing to see a black-pelted Sholan standing at the door arguing with M’kou and a guard. She frowned. It didn’t feel like Kusac.

  “Doctor Zayshul!” called a Sholan voice. “They’re trying to prevent me seeing you!” Not Kusac, Banner, his Second in command.

  “M’kou, what d’you think you’re doing?” she demanded, leaving her desk. “You’ve no business keeping anyone out of the sick bay. What is it, Banner?”

  “This isn’t the sick bay, Doctor, it’s the lab area,” said M’kou, standing aside to let Banner enter. “The General’s orders are that lab areas are out of bounds to all except authorized personnel.”

  “Don’t muddy the waters, M’kou. There’s a big difference between the labs here in the sick bay and those on the Command level. What’s the problem, Banner?”

  “They wouldn’t fetch you to look at the Captain,” he said. “He’s in a great deal of pain and is refusing to let me check his arm. It looks badly swollen to me.”

  “Where is he?” she demanded, glaring angrily at M’kou.

  “In a treatment room with Jayza.”

  “The Captain’s health is one of my primary concerns, M’kou,” she said, her voice deceptively mild as she pushed past him. “Don’t ever prevent me from treating him again.”

  “I wasn’t, Doctor,” he said, gesturing the guard back to his post then following in her wake as she and Banner headed up the corridor to the treatment rooms. “I was trying to persuade the Brother to let me tell you myself.”

  “Next time, don’t be so officious,” she said, going past the first one and stopping at the door of the next. “Does it matter who tells me?”

  The room was fairly spartan, its fittings being comprised of what little the ancient Primes had left behind that was usable, and what the N’zishok’s facilities could spare. Kusac sat on a chair beside a treatment bed with Jayza standing over him. They were arguing heatedly.

  Zayshul came to a sudden halt. “Enough!” she said, raising her voice. “You can leave now,” she said firmly to Jayza, who looked up at her in surprise.

  “I was only trying to keep him . . .” began the Sholan youth, edging cautiously past her.

  “I said leave!” Aware of M’kou and Banner behind her, she turned on them. “And so can you! This is my sick bay, not a public brawling place! If I ever catch any of you shouting or brawling in here again, I’ll put you on charges! And if you think the General will take kindly to . . .” She stopped, finding herself talking to an empty room.

  With a quiet sigh of relief, she checked that they’d closed the door then turned to Kusac. He was leaning on the treatment bed now, pushing himself up onto his feet with an obvious effort.

  “Where d’you think you’re going?” she demanded, pushing him back onto the chair and reaching for a pair of scissors which she slipped into the top pocket of her gray one piece suit.

  “Lot of fuss over nothing,” he grumbled, sitting down heavily, arm still resting on the bed. “I hate sick bays. No need for me to be here.”

  “Banner disagrees. He says you’re in a lot of pain and that your arm’s swollen,” she said, collecting a treatment tray from the sterile unit opposite and putting it on the bed beside him. Reaching up, she keyed her authorization into the drug cupboard and opening it, collected several ampoules for the hypo.

  “My arm’s fine,” he said, letting his head drop down against the shoulder of his injured arm.

  Zayshul had not missed the strain in his voice. She leaned down, studying his face. His ears were tilted back at half height, there were furrows of pain between his closed eyes, and the normally dark skin of his eyelids and nose was pale gray. Instinctively, she reached out to touch his forehead, noticing that his hair and pelt were dull and lackluster. He looked as ill as he had the day she’d first seen him on the Kz’adul.

  “You’re in a bad way, aren’t you?” she said quietly, continuing to stroke his forehead.

  The furrows lessened slightly and she jumped, pulling her hand away quickly as she heard a low vibrating noise.

  “Don’t stop,” he said, eyes flickering half open. “It’s the first thing that’s helped today.”

  The vibrating noise lessened as she stared at him. “It’s you making that noise,” she said. “What is it?”

  The noise stopped as his eyes drooped closed again. “You hiss, we purr,” he said tiredly. “Except ours is a sound of pleasure and helps us heal.”

  Zayshul reached out to stroke him, marveling at the softness of his hair and pelt as the low vibration of his purr began again. She could almost feel his tension easing as his ears folded down to invisibility in his long hair and his breathing slowed perceptibly. Stroking him was relaxing her, too.

  “I need to check your arm, Kusac,” she said after a minute or two.

  “You can now,” he said very quietly. “I’m prepared for it.”

  “You can control your pain threshold?” She’d read nothing to suggest the Sholans had biofeedback abilities like the Valtegan Warrior caste.

  “To a degree, if the pain isn’t too intense. We recite Litanies—prayers—to focus on instead of the pain. Do it now, Zayshul, before it wears off.”

  She let her hand slide over his cheek and jawline in an encouraging caress. “When did you last take something for the pain?”

  “What time is it now?”

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. “16:00.”

  “Three hours ago.”

  “The blue compound from your medikit?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can give you a shot of something stronger.”

  “Afterward.” The tension was beginning to creep back into his voice.

  “Was the bite on the outside or inside of your arm?” she asked, pulling open a nearby drawer to take out a waterproof backed pad to put on the treatment bed. Carefully she positioned his arm on it then drew her scissors out of her pocket.

  “Outside.”

  The bandage was almost too tight for her to work the scissors underneath. She had to force it, making Kusac flinch. As she cut it and gradually peeled it back, an unpleasant aroma became noticeable.

  Underneath, the actual dressing was stained with patches of an unhealthy dark green.

  Zayshul sucked in a breath and Kusac lifted his head to look. “It’s infected,” she said, gently tugging at one edge. “It’s stuck to your pelt. I’m going to have to get it off.”

  Pushing her hand aside, he took hold of the edge of the dressing with his free hand and yanked it sharply. His yelp of pain was quickly stifled.

  Zayshul took the soiled dressing from him, dumping it in the disposal unit where it was instantly incinerated.

  “I could have soaked it off,” she said, turning back to examine his arm.

  Kusac, his head sunk back onto his shoulder, said nothing.

  The arm was swollen, and already, several of the wounds were beginning to ooze more of the dark green substance that was not what
she’d expected. A Warrior’s bite didn’t usually have this effect. In fact, with the antidote, it shouldn’t have become infected at all. She’d have to run tests on it afterward to see why.

  “I’m going to have to clean the wounds, let the infected matter out,” she said, moving closer to him so she could work more comfortably on his arm. “It isn’t going to be pleasant, I’m afraid.”

  “I know,” he said, tilting his head to watch her as she loaded the hypo. “It wasn’t the poison in his teeth that caused this, it was the fact he’d eaten raw meat,” he said, as if he’d been following her train of thought. “Alien germs, plain and simple germs. Our bite has this effect on other species if not treated.”

  She hid her surprise. “You’re probably right. The first shot’s a local anesthetic,” she said, placing the hypo about midway down his forearm. He hissed with pain as she pressed the trigger. “You’ll feel the effects almost instantly,” she said, ejecting the empty cartridge and reaching for another. “This one’s a longer lasting analgesic,” she said, stepping between his legs so she could reach the exposed side of his neck. “You’ll probably feel groggy in a few minutes, but don’t worry, it won’t knock you out.”

  He managed a faint chuckle. “It had better not. If I slide off this chair, we’ll both end up on the floor.”

  She smiled briefly at him. If he could laugh, then the drug was beginning to work.

  At last, she was finished and each of the ten infected punctures was clean. Pulling off the soiled protective gloves and tossing them onto the tray, she reached for a fresh dressing pack.

  “Sorry it took so long,” she said, “but the good news is that the swelling’s right down and the wounds look completely clean.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little slurred. “I’ve been enjoying myself.”

  Surprised, she turned her head to look at him and realized she was neatly trapped between his legs. Turning back, she opened the dressing and placing it over his arm, began to bind the bandage round it, acutely aware now of the warmth of his legs against hers, and his pleasantly musky scent. Altered as it was by the scent marker—hers—she had no option but to respond to his presence. She began to panic, feeling her skin begin to flush as her blood pressure started to rise, then she remembered that the side effect of the combined drugs made the patient extremely compliant.

  “Let me go, Kusac,” she said more calmly than she felt. “I need to fetch you a course of anti-infection drugs and some more analgesics.”

  Obligingly he moved, sitting up as she finished fastening the bandage before reaching into the drug cupboard again.

  She handed him a pack of half a dozen tablets. “Take one each morning and night from tomorrow,” she said, reaching for the hypo again. “I’ll give you a booster shot now to last you till then. You can take another analgesic in six hours, but not before.”

  After she’d given him the shot, he stopped her from moving away. “You’re Shaidan’s mother,” he said quietly. “How? Did it happen that night on the Kz’adul?”

  Panic surged through her. She thought he’d forgotten about that. “I’m not his mother, Kusac.”

  His hand tightened around hers. “We’re alone, Zayshul. Kezule’s off station. You can tell me the truth now.”

  “I’m not his mother,” she insisted.

  “Stop lying to me! Your scent’s bound with mine to him! I only want to know how it could possibly happen when that implant made me sterile!”

  His anger surrounded her and as she tried to pull away from him, he rose suddenly to his feet, eyes blazing, grasping her arms with both hands.

  “It wasn’t me, it was Chy’qui’s doing,” she said, the words tumbling over each other in fear. “I told you the truth. You weren’t sterile, the implant hadn’t been on long enough, and it hadn’t taken properly. He harvested you and the other telepaths on the Kz’adul and started to grow the fertilized eggs. Shaidan is your and Carrie’s child, not mine! Carrie’s his mother.”

  He began to growl, deep and low, his hair rising around his face and across the back of his neck until he seemed twice as large. “You’re lying again! Why can’t you tell me the truth? Has Kezule frightened you into lying for him? He told me you were Shaidan’s mother!”

  “He can’t have, he knows I’m not! I’m telling you the truth! Shaidan was grown in a tank like the other cubs! I can prove it to you if you’ll let me!”

  “How? You’re lying to me now, how can I trust what you tell me?”

  “I can do a blood test. I have Shaidan’s blood and tissue samples in the lab here. Let me fetch one and I can run it through the test on the unit over there. It’ll show you his DNA and prove who his parents are. I brought the files on your people from the Kz’adul with me because of the cubs.”

  Kusac hesitated. “Fetch it.” What she’d said about the implant and it not affecting his fertility had just begun to sink in. If Carrie had another child by him, it was now possible that their Leska Link could be reestablished.

  Giyarishis’ trance was suddenly broken, his link to the realm of potentialities abruptly severed by a surge of energy the like of which he’d never encountered. Somehow, the Hunter had created a null zone around himself and the female that the Camarilla’s technology was powerless to penetrate. Worse, the Hunter had forced the female to step off the path they wanted her to take. Only his physical presence could prevent Kusac finding out his son’s true genetic heritage. This had not been anticipated—why not? How could they have missed such a possibility? How had the Hunter managed to access such power so early? He was barely even aware of his full potential.

  Humming in anxiety, the TeLaxaudin rose to his feet and stalked through the foliage to the exit as fast as he could manage.

  Anger had burned off the effects of the analgesics and his arm had begun to hurt once more. Not the awful tight pain of earlier, thankfully, but it was bad enough. Impatiently he paced the length of the treatment room while Zayshul sat watching the monitor screen. Banner and M’kou had already complained about the length of time they were taking. They couldn’t hold them outside for much longer without making them suspicious, and neither he nor Zayshul wanted that. To cap it all, his torc was throbbing against his neck, something it had never done before. Reaching up with his good arm, he eased it away from his throat.

  “I don’t understand,” said Zayshul suddenly. “This is wrong, it has to be. There must be a fault in the unit!”

  “What?” he demanded, going over to where she sat at the small workstation. “Show me.”

  She pointed. “There. It does show a match with your and Carrie’s DNA, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “There’s something wrong with either the sample or the unit, Kusac,” she said, turning her head to look at him. “It says my DNA is also present and that’s impossible.”

  He looked from the screen to her, seeing her impersonally for the first time since he’d reached Kij’ik. She was frowning, creasing the rainbow-colored skin that surrounded her large green eyes. Beneath the small nose, her wide mouth started to open, revealing the tiny, needle sharp teeth of her kind.

  “There has to be an error, Kusac.”

  Her scent, which he’d been trying to avoid since the analgesics had worn off, surrounded him. Suddenly light-headed, he clutched the back of her chair for support. The proof was staring him in the face. Though not half Prime, his son was indisputably part Zayshul’s.

  “There’s no mistake,” he said thickly as the torc’s throbbing peaked. Bonelessly, he collapsed unconscious to the floor.

  The sound of him falling brought Banner and M’kou instantly into the room. Zayshul had just enough time to erase the test and its results.

  “What happened?” demanded Banner, kneeling down beside Kusac’s limp body.

  “He’s fine,” Zayshul reassured them, getting to her feet. “He fainted because he got up too suddenly, that’s all. He needs to rest. I’d like him to stay here overnight for observ
ation.”

  “I’ll get a floater,” said M’kou, striding out.

  “I’ll stay with him,” said Banner.

  “There’s no need,” said Zayshul. “The infection in the wound is gone now. His arm will be back to normal by tomorrow, and so will he. All he needs is rest.” Beyond him, through the open door, she could see Giyarishis hovering. “Everything’s fine, Giyarishis,” she said, raising her voice. “The Captain fainted, that’s all. His wound was badly infected. He’s fine.”

  “Is good. I go, work do,” the translator said as the TeLaxaudin backed away.

  Hurrying back to the hydroponics level, Giyarishis mentally reviewed the situation. He’d been unable to prevent the Hunter learning the truth, but his collapse gave the Camarilla time to reassess this unexpected development. The translator against his waist began to vibrate gently, warning him of an incoming transmission from the Camarilla.

  “Skepp Lord Khassiss,” he said, dipping his head in deep reverence to the female elder. That she should contact him personally only highlighted the seriousness of the matter.

  “Where is the Hunter now?”

  “In the infirmary, Skepp Lord. He passed out. I cannot tell if he learned the truth.”

  “The potentialities have changed. We can assume with safety that he knows. All depends now on the strength of the bond the scent marker has created. We are working on it, so must you. Walk in the Hunter’s dreams, hers too if need be. A union between them is imperative. You have an isolator; use it if necessary. We expended much energy on removing the sand-dweller and providing more resources for him. This must happen before he returns.”

  “Yes, Skepp Lord.”

  M’kou was of two minds about Banner’s request to stay in the sick bay with the Captain. Every Prime on the base was well aware of the situation regarding Doctor Zayshul’s scent marker on Captain Aldatan—his father had briefed them all before the Sholans had arrived. Several of the females chose not to believe it, but no one would dare to break the silence imposed on them. After what he’d seen at the Directorate headquarters, he personally believed K’hedduk and his rebels capable of anything. However, the fact remained that whether or not the scent marker had been placed by Doctor Zayshul, both she and the Sholan Captain were responding to each other as if it were genuine.