fortuneswheel

by Lisanne Norman

  The narrow seat was almost enough to keep him awake, the way it aggravated the aches he felt in every joint. He had managed to reduce his headache to a dull ache but found he had to force himself to get to his feet and pace around the room every few minutes to stop himself from nodding off.

  Finally someone came for him and he was ushered into the courtroom. Facing him was a large semicircular table behind which sat the four presiding officers. To either side were the tables for the Prosecution and the Defense. Kusac was led over to the prosecuting side and asked to sit in the chair set there for the witness.

  From the other side of the room, Guynor cast him a glance of pure hate.

  “Would the witness please state his full name and rank for the records,” directed the Prosecuting Officer.

  “Kusac Alda, Telepath Fifth Grade, of the survey ship, Khalossa,” he replied.

  The Sub-Commander chairing the court looked up from his notes.

  “Sir, I realize that you chose to join this ship without the benefit of rank, but for the legal purposes of this court, it is necessary that you state your full name and rank.”

  Guynor looked up sharply, as did the officer conducting his defense.

  “Kusac Aldatan, Liegen of Valsgarth Estate, Telepath First Grade, serving on the survey ship Khalossa,” he said quietly, staring down at his hands. Well, he’d expected no less. The wonder was that he hadn’t been approached before now.

  A chair scraped back noisily. Kusac looked over to where Guynor sat slumped forward onto the table.

  “Sub-Commander, sir, could I ask for a five minute recess with my client in view of the fact we were not aware of the witness’ full identity?” asked the Defense Counsel.

  The Sub-Commander turned to his fellow officers, exchanging a few brief words with them before turning back to the Defense.

  “The court will adjourn for five minutes to allow counsel to confer with his client.”

  “Thank you,” said the officer, gathering his papers and following Guynor and his guards.

  Guynor stopped, sending a look of glowering hostility in Kusac’s direction. I know you can hear me, you bastard, came the thought with all the cold fury Guynor was capable of projecting. I’ll get you for setting me up like this! The guards tugged him on and he was led from the room.

  As the presiding officers filed out of the door behind their table, the Prosecutor came over to Kusac.

  “Liegen Aldatan,” he said, bowing his head. “It’s my pleasure to represent you. I expected that reaction from the defense when they heard your true rank. We should have no trouble in getting a conviction.”

  Anger was burning away some of the fog from Kusac’s brain.

  “Someone’s life is at stake here now,” he said with suppressed fury. “I don’t want his death! Who gave out the details of my identity?”

  “I don’t know, Liegen,” he stuttered, backing away slightly. “The information was in my brief, and obviously the Sub-Commander’s. Knowledge of your identity is restricted at the moment, not to go beyond the doors of this court.”

  “Why wasn’t the defense told?”

  “Court procedure, Liegen. It’s part of the prosecution’s case. It wouldn’t have changed anything,” he said hurriedly, seeing Kusac’s mounting anger. “He’s guilty on two counts. Issuing a Challenge against a superior officer’s orders in a time of war, and issuing a Challenge to a telepath with intent to kill. Those alone warrant the death penalty, without taking your rank into account.”

  Kusac growled and turned away.

  “Leave me,” he snapped.

  The officer was only too glad to put a table between him and the outraged lord.

  The door in front of Kusac opened and the four officers returned. Moments later, Guynor entered with his counsel. He looked like a man who knew he was facing death. Despite his mental barrier, Kusac could still feel the waves of hate emanating from him.

  “Court is now resumed,” said the Sub-Commander.

  The Defense stood up. “Sir, we withdraw our defense.”

  “What, entirely?” asked the Sub-Commander, shocked out of his ritual responses.

  The officer smiled faintly. “Yes, sir. Entirely.” He sat down again.

  “You do realize we have to proceed with the prosecution evidence?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Very well. Proceed,” the Sub-Commander said to the Prosecution.

  “Liegen Aldatan, could you tell us in your own words what happened on the evening of…”

  *

  Kusac felt a hand shaking him awake. “You’re wanted in the courtroom again, sir,” said a voice.

  He groaned, trying to shake the fog out of his mind, and staggered to his feet, feeling a hand catch him.

  “You all right, sir?” the young rating asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s just get this farce over with.”

  At the back of the courtroom stood Carrie, flanked by Rhian and Askad and the crew of the Sirroki. Kusac was led to the prosecution’s table and asked to sit beside the officer while the court announced its decision.

  “Guynor Chanda, First Officer of the Sirroki, you have been found guilty on two counts,” the Sub-Commander said, reading from his report. “On the first count that you disobeyed a superior officer’s order while in a war situation, and on the second count that you, with intent to kill, issued an unlawful Challenge against a telepath. This charge was duly altered to one of Attempted Murder.”

  “The charge of Challenging a superior officer cannot in fairness be leveled against you. Since you voluntarily gave up your right to defense, do you wish to make a statement before sentence is passed?”

  Guynor rose to his feet.

  “Only to say that this court may have judged against me, but time will prove that I acted correctly in issuing the Challenge in spite of his rank! I still say that he,” he said, face contorted by hate as he swung round to point an accusing finger at Kusac, “acts against the interests of our race when he lies with his alien whore! I warn you again, Kusac, keep looking behind you! If I can’t get you, others will!” He sat down abruptly.

  The Sub-Commander drew his breath in sharply.

  “You forget yourself,” he snapped. “Had I known you intended to further insult not only the injured party in this trial, but also an honored addition to our crew, I would not have allowed you to speak. The penalty for your actions is death. The sentence will be carried out at dawn tomorrow.”

  The Defending Officer rose hurriedly to his feet.

  “On behalf of my client, I would like to appeal to the court to allow him the right to die with honor, by his own hand.”

  “Denied. There is nothing honorable about your client. He is a dangerous and deluded man, and I will personally make sure the sentence is carried out.”

  “But, sir…”

  “I said denied! He has just restated his desire to kill one of the most important people on this vessel. There will be no chances taken over this execution.”

  The Sub-Commander rose to his feet and stalked out, leaving the courtroom standing in stunned silence.

  Askad made his way over to where Kusac sat.

  “Get me out of this circus,” he said, his voice barely audible.

  Askad helped him to his feet, pushing a way through his stunned crewmates until they were clear of the courtroom.

  Kusac leaned against the wall, clutching his stomach as it cramped up on him.

  “You’re ill. I’m getting Vanna,” said Askad, moving away.

  Kusac grabbed hold of him. “No,” he said. “It’ll pass. It’s just a reaction to what I’ve witnessed in there today.”

  Askad hesitated as Kusac began to straighten up and breathe more easily.

  “See? It’s gone already.”

  “It wasn’t that much of a circus, Kusac. He did get justice, you know. What else could the court do when he virtually promised to murder you if he got the chance?”

  “I dealt with him
once, I can do it again. Next time I’d be prepared.”

  “Why should you have to? It comes down to your and Carrie’s deaths or his. He isn’t going to settle for less than killing you. No, they made the right decision.”

  “Well, I don’t think so!”

  “Then what would you have done?” asked Askad, just as angrily.

  The fight left Kusac. “I really don’t know,” he replied tiredly. “Look, I’m going back to my room. Today has been too much for me. See Carrie is all right, will you?”

  “Shouldn’t you speak to her while she’s here?”

  “No. When she’s ready, she’ll come to me.”

  “I think you’re making a mistake. You should make the first move.”

  “Everyone thinks they know my business better than me!” he growled, jerking himself free.

  *

  As he made his way to the elevator, someone grasped him by the arm, pulling him to a halt.

  “Kusac! It’s me, Vanna. Why didn’t you wait and talk to us?”

  Kusac stared at the medic for a few seconds before he recognized her.

  “Vanna,” he said. “Good to see you.”

  “Kusac, what’s wrong?” she asked, reaching up to touch his face briefly. “Are the headaches worse? Are you feeling ill?”

  He smiled vaguely. “Not ill, just tired.” He pulled himself together with an obvious effort. “The courtmartial, it took a lot out of me.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she replied sympathetically. “How’s Carrie? She rushed off, too.”

  “Carrie? Oh, she’s well, I think.”

  “Don’t you know?” she asked sharply.

  “I haven’t seen much of her lately. Look, I must go,” he said, beginning to move away from her. “I really do need to rest. As you said, the headache is still with me.”

  “Then why haven’t you been in touch? Obviously you need something stronger for the pain.”

  “If I still have it tomorrow, I promise I’ll call you.”

  Vanna watched him walk away, a worried look on her face.

  No sooner had he shut the door and taken off his jacket than the tone sounded.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Carrie.”

  Kusac opened the door, looking at her silently. “You look well,” he said after a moment, noticing that again she wore Sholan clothes. With her long fair hair, it made her appear even more exotic than usual.

  “Kusac, may I come in?” she asked, looking nervously to either side of her.

  Silently, he moved away from the doorway toward the center of the room. “Sit down,” he said, indicating a chair.

  She shook her head. “I’ve only come for a minute. I think I’m starting a cold or something,” she said. “I’ve had these terrible headaches and pains in my joints. Vanna gave me something for it, and it helps a bit.” When he didn’t reply, she stood looking around the room, obviously unsure what to say next.

  “What can I do for you, Carrie?”

  She turned to look at him again. “I had to come,” she said.

  “Why?” he asked, realizing through the haze of pain from his headache that he was only vaguely curious.

  “I miss you,” she said. “I realized that when I saw you today.” Hesitantly, she came over to him.

  As if from a distance he noticed that her hand was trembling as she reached out to touch his shoulder. Her fingers stroked his fur, pushing as always past it to the skin underneath. A tremor ran through him, one so strong she couldn’t fail to notice it.

  She moved closer, resting her head against his chest, her hand moving to touch his neck.

  Kusac breathed in sharply, closing his eyes as he tried to counteract the stab of agony that lanced through his head. Her scent was strong in his nostrils, and like her presence, all but unbearable. His hand came up to touch her waist, almost but not quite daring to hold her close. He touched her face fleetingly with his other hand, jerking it away as a spasm of nausea wracked his body.

  “Carrie,” he said harshly in Terran, “you’ve no idea what you’re doing to me. I’m no different from your own males, and your presence is stretching my self-control beyond endurance.” He pushed her away. “You don’t know what it costs me to say this, but leave me now and don’t return unless you intend to stay.”

  She stood there, what little color there was draining from her face. “I thought you’d be glad to see me,” she whispered.

  “Gods, I offer you myself and you can’t decide! Yes,” he hissed, baring his teeth at her and making her step back in shock. “I am glad to see you! You’ve had your time to choose, now it’s all but run out. For Vartra’s sake, make up your mind, girl! Either stay or go!”

  Carrie stumbled to the door and, fumbling with the release mechanism, ran out into the corridor leaving it open behind her.

  Still shaking, Kusac sealed it. His legs gave way and he sank down into a crouch, head in his hands, fighting the spasms in his stomach. At last, his body under some sort of control, he staggered to the bed, rolling into the concave depression as the images started to flicker through his mind. He tried not to fight it this time, there was no longer any point. He began, finally, to let go.

  Heedless of the curious eyes of the Sholans around her, Carried fled to the safety of Rhian’s and Askad’s quarters. She punched the entry code into the lock, pushing through the gap as soon as the door began to open, sealing it behind her almost immediately. Quickly, she sent a probe round the apartment. She was alone. Stumbling into her room like Kusac, she flung herself on her bed, only to have to rise moments later to rush to the bathroom, retching.

  The attack over, she sat up, wiping her clammy forehead with a towel. She hadn’t been feeling well these last few days, but this was probably just a reaction to the stresses of the day. Going into the main room, she chose a glass of water from the dispenser and returned to her bedroom. She pulled the cover off the bed and wrapping it round herself, sat down and sipped the water. She was still trembling, but now she felt chilled to the bone and her head had begun to throb again.

  She tried to think about Kusac, about their Link, but her thoughts kept wriggling away from her like so many serpents to be replaced by flashes of memories. S/he saw her floundering through the snow toward her/him, grateful at last for the help he/she needed to stop the pain and fever; she/he stood against a tree, surrounded by four Valtegans intent on amusing themselves before killing her, then he/she erupted into the clearing, laying about with deadly claws. Faster and faster flicked the images until, her mind bruised beyond coping, she collapsed.

  Chapter 3

  Anonymous in his Forces uniform with its green flash of the Communications Guild, Tallinu had ambled off to find his quarters and store his gear. Draz had sent one of his security officers down to the stores on the concourse to collect everything he’d need while Myak adjusted the ship’s records to not only list him on the payroll, but to show that he’d been on board for several months. Tallinu handed him a set of personnel records and, within moments, his cover was complete.

  An hour or so at his comm and he’d acquired all the relevant data that he needed. Switching it off, he stood up and stretched each muscle group in turn. It was a good job he’d kept in shape over the last ten years. He was stiff and tired. Striker might be fast but it was damned uncomfortable. As well as that, his body was on Sholan time, not ship time. It was another six hours before he could call it a day.

  Going up to the Admin level on the twenty-first floor, he made his way to the small shrine. Next door to it was the office used by the priest— in this case, the Brother— for their more secular duties. He opened the door and went in.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” said the Brother, peering round the doorway of his inner sanctum. He froze, staring at his visitor.

  “It looks like I can’t call you Dzakayini anymore,” he drawled, flicking a coin toward him.

  Dzaka’s hand reached out instinctively and caught it. “The guild coin,”
he said. “I knew they were sending someone, but I never dreamed it would be you.” He came into the room and, hesitating, handed the coin back to Tallinu.

  “Is that all the greeting I get?” he asked, eye ridge raised. Before he’d finished speaking, Dzaka was embracing him.

  “It’s been so long,” said Dzaka, as Tallinu returned the gesture. “I didn’t know Ghezu had reinstated you.”

  “He hasn’t, exactly,” he said, sitting down on one of the lounge chairs. “I accepted the contract as a freelance operative. I have all the guild privileges, and a free hand in this one. Now I know why.”

  “C’shar?” Dzaka asked, moving back into the inner room. “I’d just put some on when you arrived.”

  “Please. I was sorry to hear about your mate, Nnya. I know what a terrible blow it must have been to you.”

  “I can’t talk about it yet,” he said, his voice bleak. “Did you get my report? Is that why you’re here?”

  “Partially,” Tallinu admitted. “I need you to bring me up to date not only on these potential troublemakers, but also on what you’ve found out about this mismatched Leska pair. I’m here to assess the situation concerning them.”

  Dzaka nodded to himself as he brought out the mugs and set one down in front of Tallinu. “I thought as much. You know it’s got Mentor Mnya in a sweat, don’t you? To say nothing of the Commander? He’s got his adjutant, Myak, fielding her father and Konis Aldatan, which isn’t an easy thing to do considering the situation. No one wants to tell him about his son.”

  “I’m not surprised. And Mnya? What’s got her so worried? The cross-species Link, or the fact they can fight?”

  “The fact they can fight,” he said, sitting down. “She’s afraid that fear of them will start up the post-Cataclysm pogroms again, when telepaths were hunted down and murdered because of their Talent.”

  Tallinu made a noise of disgust. “The fear of the telepaths back then was because the ordinary people thought they’d caused the Cataclysm.”

  “I know. There’s no reason for her to think that could ever happen again. It’s one thing for a race emerging from global destruction to be paranoid and superstitious, but not now, a thousand years later.”