“Yes, General.”
“Outpost rotational change is commencing in two minutes,” said Shartoh’s voice over the internal comms. “Gravity will be cut after the maneuver. Secure all loose objects.”
Kusac had just finished checking the Prime temple and locking down the rec. Banner was off checking out theirs while Jayza and Khadui were pounding on the doors of the starboard living quarters and games room. Now, while everyone was either occupied or gathered in the safe areas, would be a good time for him to examine the Outpost’s main defense, the meson cannon.
Power to the secondary elevators had been cut, but there were staircases that went all the way down to that level. The low-level emergency lighting in the corridors gave him added cover as he snuck the last few yards toward the air lock leading to corridor A. Keying it open, he carefully looked round the corner, praying that the air lock at the far end would be closed, since beyond it was the main Security station on this level.
Thankfully, it was. Letting his breath out slowly, he edged his way into the main corridor, sealing the iris behind him. He was committed now, no matter what happened. Keeping himself close to the wall, he took the last few steps to the air lock slowly. Underneath the sound of the giant fans, he could no longer hear the rumble of the cannon’s outermost muzzle being retracted. Even the faint sounds generated by the closing of the great clamshell doors had now ceased.
He checked his wrist unit. Still one minute to go before rotation. Slipping through the lock, he ran down the short access corridor to the stairwell. Opening it, he gripped the railings and after listening for any sounds, began to take the stairs as fast and as quietly as he could.
As he came level with the Command deck, he slowed down, stopping to listen and to reach out with his mind, searching to make sure the way was clear. It was; the minds he sensed were all too occupied with the imminent rotation.
He stopped on the landing, holding onto the stair rail and waited. It took less than two minutes for the rotation, then he felt himself begin to rise gently from the floor. Pulling his feet up onto the safety rail, he kicked off from there, aiming himself downward to glide to the half-landing below. Twisting at the crucial moment, he landed with all four limbs against the wall and sprang down the remaining section, grabbing at the handrail and easing himself, hand over hand, to a stop.
Banner, meanwhile, had had a similar idea but his hinged on making for the seldom used main elevator at the other end of corridor 1. Forcing the doors open just enough to ease himself through into the lift shaft, he leaped across the empty gap for the maintenance ladder and started making his way down.
The meson cannon level was empty apart from the two-person crew who’d just finished cranking the muzzle of the cannon back within the asteroid’s shell and closing the concealing cover. There were fewer air locks on this level, and the emergency lighting had been cut to half what was normal. Quietly, keeping one hand on the safety grips attached to the walls, Kusac made his way along the narrow transverse starboard corridor, past empty pilots’ living and recreational quarters that closely mirrored those on the Officers level.
At the final air lock, he waited until he sensed the cannon crew leave, then keyed it open. Ahead of him, stretching from floor to ceiling, was the massive reinforced barrel of the cannon that spanned the width of the Outpost. Once more kicking off from the wall, Kusac let himself drift toward the firing room. The door was locked. Without thinking, he put his hand on the pad and moments later, the door slid open. Taken aback, he pulled himself inside, snagging hold of the command chair. Sitting down, he anchored himself into it with his feet and began to examine the controls.
Balancing precariously on the inner narrow lip of the meson cannon level, Banner eased his fingertips between the elevator doors, trying to pry them apart. They gave unexpectedly, and he found himself flailing in an undignified fashion in the center of the shaft. A hand snaked out, catching him by the arm and hauling him out.
“What the hell are you doing down here?” Kusac rumbled angrily as Banner grasped hold of his other arm and pulled himself upright.
“I could ask you the same question,” his Second countered.
“Making sure the cannon can’t be used against our people,” Kusac said shortly, letting him go. “As I said I would. Now I suggest we get back to our own level before we’re missed.”
“What else is down here?” asked Banner, looking around as Kusac started moving back down the corridor.
“Pilots’ quarters, and simulation rooms,” said Kusac. “All empty. There are grav shafts that lead up to the flight deck above, but we can’t risk using them. The stairs are safer.”
“What did you do?” Banner asked, grasping hold of the grips and following him.
“Made a few adjustments that can be undone quickly if necessary,” he said.
“Sounds good,” said Banner.
The Bridge
After two hours spent watching the Zh’adasho sitting motionless approximately five light-minutes away, Kezule could feel his crew getting restless. The fact they’d been unable to pick up any internal communications from it hadn’t helped.
“Shartoh, get some refreshments for us from the dispensers,” he said. “The rest of you, remain at your posts and be vigilant, but stand down.”
“I’m picking up a jump point forming outside the system, General,” said Zhalmo, her voice tense. “Putting it on screen now.”
“Cancel that order,” he snapped as all eyes turned to the far wall.
The jump point formed, spitting out a small and easily identifiable craft.
“It’s one of the Watchers,” said Zhalmo.
The scent of tension in the air increased, but there was no fear, Kezule noted with satisfaction even as he ran through all the possible reasons for a Watcher to join the Zh’adasho.
“Have they found us, General?” asked Q’almo, turning to look at his father.
“Unlikely. Even if they have, the worst we face is a request for talks,” said Kezule thoughtfully, as the small craft altered course to rendezvous with the Zh’adasho.
Over the course of the next half hour, they watched as the landing bay doors on the Zh’adasho opened and the Watcher slowed to intercept and dock inside it.
In his quarters on the hydroponics level, Giyarishis was observing it all through his local Unity net, composing himself for the call he knew would come from the Camarilla. This had not been expected. He could imagine the scene there now, the consternation, and even panic from some members, the anger from the Isolationists. He bobbed his head thoughtfully. Since they had awakened the Hunter, in his opinion, for the first time in the Camarilla’s long history, far too much had become unpredictable. Hkairass would make much of this. At least Phratry Leader Annuur was on board the Watcher.
Within the swirling mists and colors of Unity, he watched as the Zh’adasho closed its bay doors and slowly began to accelerate away from the area.
Kezule kept Kij’ik locked down for another two hours before sounding the all clear. Once the Outpost had returned to normal, he waited until the damage reports had come in then gave orders for the civilian leaders, the Sholan Captain, and the various team leaders to gather in the briefing room on the Officers’ level for debriefing. Lockdown had been achieved within the time limits he’d set, but he was certain it could be done even more efficiently. Thankfully, damage from abandoned food and drinks had been restricted to soaked carpeting and wet floors in the mess and rec areas, no essential equipment had been damaged, but there was still room for improvement.
Litany for Relaxation.
Eyes closed, I set my cares aside,
Vartra bring me tranquillity.
Still my limbs and quiet my mind,
Vartra grant me serenity.
My heart beats a more languid pace,
Vartra bring me tranquillity.
Breathing slows to soft and calm,
Vartra grant me serenity.
Bringing with it a gentle
peace,
Vartra bring me tranquillity.
—Attributed to Sister M’Nokada,
from the Brotherhood’s
Book of Pathways
CHAPTER 17
Shola, En-Shalla estate, morning, Zhal-Mellasha 13th day (February)
RAY stopped at the door of the treatment room watching Vanna and Carrie as the latter read from a list and the former collected the items from her drug cabinet.
“Fifty large field dressings,” Carrie called out. “Isn’t that rather a lot, Vanna?”
They couldn’t be more different, he thought, watching the lithe felinoid, tail extended for balance, stretching up to reach the contents of the cupboard, then turning to look at the small blonde Human female in her black military-style jacket and trousers who was lounging against the treatment bed.
“Not for a restock, Carrie,” she said. “Hello, Ray. I thought you were busy with Jack,” she added, turning round to pass five cartons to Carrie.
Carrie glanced up as she put the comp pad down and took them from Vanna. “Ray,” she said, nodding before turning back to stack the cartons in the large container on the bed.
“I’m taking a break,” he said, coming into the room. “What’re you doing?”
“Restocking personal medikits,” said Vanna smoothly. “What’s next, Carrie?”
“Same of medium,” said Carrie, picking up the pad again briefly, “and two hundred small dressings, plus one hundred rolls of bandages.”
“Sounds like you’re outfitting a small army,” he said, sitting down in Vanna’s desk chair.
“That’s what we are here,” said Carrie, accepting the first lot of cartons. “We’re actually quite busy, Ray. If you’re going over to the gym mess, you’d better head off now before your break is over.”
“I was going to get some coffee from the dispenser in the staff lounge,” he said. “I hoped you’d join me. I’m sure Vanna can spare you for a quarter of an hour.”
“Vanna is helping me,” she said, continuing to pack the container. “This is my responsibility as Clan Leader.”
“Come on, what difference will fifteen minutes make?” he said. “I’m sure there isn’t a pressing need for this to be done right now.”
“Ten rolls of tape,” said Carrie, glancing at the list again as she stowed the last carton away.
“They’re loose,” warned Vanna, starting to lob them at her.
He watched her catch them all, even the one Vanna miscalculated and nearly dropped.
“You’ve got good reflexes,” he said, kicking himself as he did. Of all the inane things to say, he could pick them.
She turned to look at him, her pupils suddenly shrinking down to vertical slits. “I’ve got the eyes for it.” Then they expanded again to black circles.
He could swear he heard her purring! “Don’t do that eye trick on me,” he said uncomfortably, looking away from her to blink. “It’s unnerving.”
Vanna laughed. “That’s our Carrie,” she said. “Okay, what’s next?”
“Fifteen hypoderms,” she said. “I brought the others back and put them in the sterilizer first thing this morning.”
This time Vanna came over to hand them to her.
“I think that’s everything,” Carrie said, checking her list and having a final look at the nearly full container.
“You forgot the sterile water packs,” said Vanna, going over to another cupboard. “I’ll issue you fifty.”
“What about the coffee, Carrie?” persisted Ray. “You just said you’re finished.”
“Ray, you’re jangling my thoughts,” said Carrie, scrolling through the comp pad. “I really can’t take a break right now, I’m too busy. Energy cells,” she said to Vanna. “I forgot fresh energy cells for the hand scanners.”
Vanna pulled a drawer open and took out a pack which she tossed to her.
“Thanks,” she said absently, continuing to look at the pad as she automatically put her hand out to catch the pack. “Has Garras organized the chargers and the fresh power cells for the energy pistols and rifles?”
“He’s doing that this afternoon.”
She nodded, then looked up at her. “Are you sure we’ve enough wound sealant and coagulant sprays? Fifteen cans of each doesn’t seem much and this batch of cans is a lot smaller.”
“These are designed to fit in the jackets,” said Vanna, turning back to her cupboard. “Take another five if you’re really worried, just update your pad for me. You did remember to add in the sterile water packs, didn’t you?”
“Doing it now,” she said, punching the tiny keypad then glancing at her wrist comm. “I gotta go, Vanna. I promised Kitra and Dzaka I’d meet them in the gym. Rezac will pick this up in about half an hour.”
“Flash it at my desk comp before you go,” said Vanna, putting the rigid top on the container and sealing it. “You can always review the lists later and make up the quota if anything’s been missed.”
“Will do.” She turned and walked over to the desk. “Excuse me, Ray,” she said pointedly. “I need to update Vanna’s records.”
He got up, more than a little irritated by the way the two were ignoring him.
Carrie pointed the comp pad at the desk unit and pressed one of the keys. A small beep sounded, then the screen flashed up a message. “Updating medical stock data,” it intoned as she turned away from it.
“Done,” she said, pushing the comp pad into the thigh pocket on her trousers and moving toward the door.
Ray reached out, catching her by the arm, being careful to make his touch light, unlike the last time.
He heard her yelp, but all he remembered afterward was Carrie’s hand clamping down on his, and his arm being twisted, hand in a wrist lock, his fingers held painfully downward, then he was released.
“What the hell are you doing?” she snarled, eyes blazing in anger. “I told you before, never touch a telepath! Dammit, Ray, you’ve been here long enough to know better!” With that, she stormed out the door.
Ray stood massaging his hand, too shocked to say or do anything.
Vanna came over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll take you down for coffee,” she said, drawing him out into the corridor with her.
“All I did was touch her arm,” he said, reverting to English. “What’s with that woman anyway? There was no need to react like that.”
“She was mind-speaking with her bond-sister,” said Vanna, letting him go. “A physical interruption at such a time is extremely painful. She’ll have quite a headache now. I did tell you when you came here why you couldn’t touch any of us unless invited. That’s why we have laws concerning no touching.”
“You actually have laws about it?” he asked incredulously as he followed her down the stairs to the ground level.
“We do,” she confirmed. “If that had happened in Valsgarth town and been seen by one of the Protectors, you’d have been instantly arrested. There’s a jail term as the penalty, quite a stiff one actually.”
“That’s a lot over the top,” he said, following her round the corner into the short corridor that led to the lounge. “Just for touching?”
“Think of it this way,” she said, opening the door and holding it for him. “Apart from the physical pain and the discomfort you’ve caused Carrie, every time you touch any telepath we instantly know what’s in your surface thoughts. You are invading our minds, forcing your mental presence on us.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I assure you, I’m not,” she said, heading over to the dispenser and dialing for a mug of coffee and one of c’shar. “Everyone’s mind is giving out their thoughts all the time. Mostly it’s like hearing a low, background buzz unless they’re looking at you or interacting with you on some level. Then, unless we’ve got our mental shields up, we can hear your surface thoughts loud and clear. Don’t worry, we usually have them up,” she added, catching sight of his stricken look.
She handed him his mug and wai
ted for her own to fill. “But touch is different. If we’re expecting it, we can make sure we pick up very little from you. However if we’re not expecting it, then the effect can be devastating, depending on the circumstances.”
Collecting her own mug, she went to sit on one of the sofas.
“So just for bumping into a telepath on the street I could end up in jail?” he asked, taking a seat at a safe distance from her. “That’s not a very fair system.”
“Not for bumping into one,” she said with a slight smile, “but you would get yelled at, maybe even an official warning. That’s why all telepaths wear purple, or in the Brothers’ and Sisters’ case, a purple edging, to make us highly visible. You did get told that, didn’t you?”
He nodded, trying to make sense of what she’d said.
“I bet you dismissed it as being unlikely, didn’t you?” She grinned at him over the rim of her mug. “Believe me, it’s not. We’re more physically vulnerable than non-telepaths so we’re protected from physical harm by the law.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I can see why you’d need to be, but still, she didn’t have to do some martial arts moves on me.”
Vanna raised an eye ridge at him. “That was your second mistake,” she chuckled.
“Second?” he asked, giving a wry grin. “One wasn’t enough, huh?”
“I know Carrie’s told you she’s one of the Warrior Elite of Shola, a Sister in the Brotherhood of Vartra. When you grabbed hold of her, she reacted as a Warrior, to protect herself.”
Since he’d arrived here, he’d heard a lot about the Brotherhood, especially from the other Humans on the estate. “Come off it, she hasn’t been here long enough to be trained to that degree. It takes years!”
“Not if you have a Sholan Brother or Sister as a Leska,” said Vanna quietly. “If you’ve been talking to our Humans, then doubtless you’ll have heard them mention Kaid Tallinu.”
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