razorsedge

by Lisanne Norman

  Raiban flicked her ears in annoyance. “I’ve never known sleep deprivation not to reveal some information,” she grumbled. “The resultant disorientation and exhaustion usually breaks down their resistance.”

  “Unless you’re a Valtegan,” Rhyaz said, trying not to sound irritated himself. He’d already discussed this with the General several times before. He understood why she found it difficult to believe, he had himself. “Or at least, unless you’re General Kezule,” he amended. “The sensors we implanted in him confirmed he was awake, as did our viewers, but somehow he managed to get enough rest to combat that technique. And,” he added, mindful of the state Kezule was currently in, “we did keep physically disturbing him, too.”

  “I know, I know. I read the report,” she said testily. “I’ve got the High Command breathing down my neck for results. I need to have something positive to tell them at our next meeting in a fortnight, and you don’t seem to be getting anywhere! What about drugs?”

  “The medics don’t understand his system well enough yet. Computer simulations are one thing, our only specimen is another.”

  “Your more physical persuasion didn’t seem to do much good.” She indicated the still form of Kezule.

  “In these circumstances, it rarely does,” Rhyaz agreed, “but it’s less dangerous than drugs. We really need his cooperation more than anything.”

  “So what’s next?” Raiban faced away from the viewing window. “More persuasion?”

  “For a few days, combined with a more conciliatory approach and one or two luxuries added to his environment. That’s why I requested those items from Keiss.”

  “When are they due?”

  “They’re here now, General, being unloaded into our depository area ready for use.” As he turned from the window, a movement from his prisoner caught his eye. “He’s coming round,” he said.

  “Another time, Rhyaz. I’ve no wish to watch him lick his wounds.”

  Her voice was gruff, and Rhyaz knew she disliked using violence for questioning as much as he did. It was barbaric, but when coupled with a softer approach, it occasionally yielded results where other means had failed. Personally, he didn’t hold out much hope. If he’d read him right, Kezule was a line officer, as he had been. The General had been out there in the mud, under fire with his troops— not sitting dry and warm in the rear like some. This officer wouldn’t break easily.

  *

  Kezule stirred, feeling the energy coursing round his system, wakening his body now his mind was alert. Checking heart rate and breathing, he made sure they stayed at the slow, steady rhythm he wanted them to believe was normal. If the opportunity came to escape, he didn’t want them to know how fast he could move, nor how much control he had over his body functions.

  He needed to keep his breathing shallow anyway— his ribs were somewhat bruised after his latest session with his tormentors. Surreptitiously he slid his hand between himself and the wall and felt cautiously along his left side, trying not to register pain when he touched the lower ones. He knew they were watching him, and was sure there was nowhere in this sparsely furnished room that he wasn’t under full surveillance.

  Sitting up slowly, he had to admit to himself that these modern Sholans had gradually gone up in his esteem. They were very different from their ancestors. It seemed his people had had a lasting effect on them after all. Theirs was no technologically backward world now. He regretted they hadn’t met during the subduing of their planet: they’d have been an enemy worth fighting. He’d hated waging war on worlds of shocked and docile inhabitants. Oh, a few had stood up to them, with their primitive weapons, but not many— and not for long.

  He eased himself off the hard, narrow bed and got carefully to his feet. As he moved he became aware of the swelling and bruising around his right arm and shoulder and the left side of his face. It would pass. Physical pain and privation he could tolerate, he was used to it. Granted, it had been a few years since he had been exposed to them, prior to the Emperor, Praise be to Him, promoting him to guarding the royal hatchery on Shola. Thank the gods he hadn’t gone native and soft like some of the officers he knew!

  The sound of a hatch opening and shutting, combined with a loud squeal drew his attention to the cage set in the opposite wall. So they’d decided to feed him, had they? It had been a long time since his last meal, two days at least. A small hiss of amusement escaped him. Depriving him of sleep hadn’t worked. How were they to know he had a sense of time to beat that of any manufactured device? Yes, he’d eat, but he needed water first.

  A few concessions had been made to his different physiology. One of them was the wide-topped bowl he needed to drink from. The other was the one-piece coverall he wore. Despite it having been laundered several times, he could still smell the stench of the Humans on it, but like everything else in this room that was now his world, he’d grown accustomed to it.

  He strolled over to the cage trying to gauge how bored he was. At his approach, the inhabitant, a medium sized brown mammal, set up a high-pitched screeching and tried desperately to claw its way through the back corner of its enclosure. Releasing it and chasing it round the room was out of the question today, but once he’d removed it from the cage, he could turn away and pretend to rip it limb from limb, devouring it a piece at a time while it still lived. It wasn’t something he’d ever actually done, but he’d seen it used to intimidate Sholan prisoners in his time, and it was extremely effective. He hoped when he simulated it that it would have the same effect on his captors. However, he was too hungry for that.

  Unlatching the cage door, he thrust his hand in, grasping the terrified rodent and hauling it out. It squirmed and shrieked frantically, trying to find a part of him into which to fasten its long incisors. Grasping its head in his other hand, with a sharp tug and twist, he dispatched it cleanly. There were some animals that tasted better after a chase, but these Sholan ones weren’t in that category. Let them get too terrified and it soured their blood and the flesh.

  He took the carcass to the table and, putting it down, proceeded to dismember it using the edges of his claws as surrogate knives. He wasn’t allowed such luxuries, so it was as well he had his natural ones.

  The smell of the still warm blood was making him even hungrier. Licking his claws clean first, he’d just sat down to eat when the door slid open. Two armed troopers came into the room, guns trained on him. In their wake followed an officer, one he hadn’t seen before.

  The Sholan approached the opposite edge of the table before stopping. “We haven’t met, General Kezule. I’m Sub-Lieutenant Myak from Alien Relations. I’m here to see you’re being treated appropriately for a prisoner of your rank.”

  Kezule eyed him over the top of the piece of meat in his hands. He grunted in reply and began to eat.

  “I see I’m interrupting your meal. I must apologize for that, but my schedule is tight today, and this was the only time I could spare. I’ve brought one or two home comforts for you.”

  The Sholan turned away so sharply that Kezule grinned to himself. Yes, it still affected them to see a Valtegan eat. But what he’d said had caught his attention. Home comforts? What did he mean by that? Continuing to eat, he watched with interest as another trooper, carrying a medium-sized box, was gestured in.

  He brought the box to the lieutenant and stood there while Myak reached inside. Bringing out a small cuboid object, he placed it on the table a good arm’s length away from him.

  “I believe it’s some kind of puzzle belonging to your people,” said the officer, still keeping his eyes averted. He reached in again, this time bringing out a small pile of flat plastic squares covered in script, and a slim rectangular object with a viewing window on the front.

  “We think these are books and a viewer.”

  Confused, Kezule stuffed the last of the meat he was eating into his mouth and reached out for them. Turning them over, he examined them from every angle. The writing was definitely that of his people, but s
ubtly different, as if in another dialect. He could only recognize a word here and there.

  “You put the cards into the slot,” said Myak, pointing to it. “There are several depressions on the front which control the device.”

  Kezule chose one of the cards and inserted it, then turned the unit over and placed a claw tip into one of the small holes on the front. Nothing. He tried again and the screen came to life, displaying what indeed was Valtegan text, and recognizable at that.

  “We don’t know enough of your language to read it properly, but our experts think it may be a story of some kind.”

  “It’s a book of holy sayings by the God-King, Emperor Q’emgo’h,” said Kezule. “May His memory be revered for all time,” he added reflexively. This brought home to him once and for all that his world was long gone. Q’emgo’h had been his Emperor, on the holy throne of the God-Kings when he’d been taken into captivity. For His sayings to be collected like this, He was dead. Distractedly, he fiddled with the other depressions till he got the text to scroll down. “Where did you get these?”

  “Oh, they were found,” Myak said offhandedly. “I knew you had nothing to do in your leisure time, so I brought these, and some paper and a writing stylus,” he added, pulling the items from the box. “It must be bad enough being a captive, but to be without anything to do day after day… Now, is there anything else I can do for you? Have you any complaints about your treatment?”

  Kezule hissed derisively, his crest raising up to its full height. “I survive,” he said dryly.

  Myak nodded. “Good. We have access to a few other odds and ends, but I may not be allowed to bring them to you unless you begin to cooperate with our personnel. It’s not a lot they’re asking, believe me. For a start,” he said, his voice dropping persuasively, “if you would teach them your language, then we’d know what it is we’re finding and whether it would be of interest to you, wouldn’t we? You could even ask us to look for specific items.”

  Kezule held up the viewer. “This isn’t from the past,” he said. “We didn’t have such devices as this then. And it’s too new. Where did you get it?” His voice had taken on a hard edge, and he checked himself. He had to remember he was not the general here, he was the captive. “Where do they come from?” he asked again, moderating his tone.

  Myak gestured to the trooper to leave and turned to go himself. “An exchange of information could perhaps be arranged,” he said quietly. “Think about it. Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached in his pocket and drew out a tall, slim container which he threw at Kezule.

  Without thinking, Kezule was instantly alert, catching it almost as soon as it left the lieutenant’s hand.

  “I’m told it’s a spice used for your food,” Myak said.

  Turning the container in his hand, Kezule realized it was a drum of powdered Iaalquoi— and it was relatively fresh! Where in the name of all the demons had they gotten this from? He tried to suppress the surge of relief that swept through him. the lack of the plant extract had already begun to affect him, and he’d been trying to avoid thinking of what would happen to him if none was available.

  *

  Two good reactions there, Lieutenant Myak, came the message from the telepath in the research viewing area. His readings peaked when you threw him the tub, then when he saw what it was. I guess it’s something he requires— a drug or some dietary supplement.

  Understood, Myak replied as he left. “Just think about my proposition,” he repeated, stopping briefly at the door.

  Myak joined the small group in the research area.

  “If this herb is one he needs, or wants, it could be the lever we need to persuade him to cooperate,” L’Seuli said. “Any idea what it is, Lieutenant?”

  Mito shook her head. “None yet. I need to be fully updated on what you’ve found in the various ruins here. Anders and I can then continue where Jo left off with her catalog of the Keissian Valtegan bases.”

  Raguul grunted. “If you ask me, it’s damned convenient that you’ve been working with Anders on this all along.”

  “It is rather, isn’t it?” said Mito blandly as Nick Anders caught her eye conspiratorially. “Still, two get the work done faster than one, and speed is what we need. At least he can go in with this Kezule, if necessary. I can’t.”

  “You have a point,” Raguul conceded. “Well, I’m off home now. You know where I am if your people need me, Brother L’Seuli.” With a brief nod in his direction, the commander left.

  Mito heaved a sigh of relief when he’d gone. “What about you, Myak? Are you on leave, too?”

  “Like the captain, I’m on call should they need me here.” He looked over at the telepath who was sitting on one of the highbacked stools at the bench between them and the viewing window. “Zhyaf,” he said, “the Clan Lord has asked me to accompany you back to the estate on a social visit. When do you go off duty?”

  Zhyaf stirred, looking up at the lieutenant. “In about an hour.”

  “I’ll take you for a tour of the facility,” said L’Seuli. “When are you and Anders scheduled to start work, Mito?”

  “Tomorrow,” replied Anders as Mito wrinkled her nose in a grimace. “We don’t rate any leave.”

  “Not true,” said L’Seuli, shaking his head. “Your experience will be vital to our work here. We’ve scheduled you with shorter shifts than the others to compensate you for your lack of leave.”

  “You can’t blame me for trying for a sympathy vote,” grinned Anders, putting an arm around Mito’s waist as they followed L’Seuli out into the open security area that fronted Kezule’s prison.

  *

  “Good morning,” said Vanna, putting her head around the kitchen door. “Can I come in? Today is Nylam’s Day, the day of the Hunt, and of giving gifts. I’ve brought an early one for you.”

  “Please join us,” said Kusac. “We’ve nearly finished, I’m afraid, but if you’re hungry…”

  “I’ve eaten, thanks,” she said, putting her medikit on the table and slipping onto the seat near the door.

  “Coffee or c’shar?” asked Carrie as Zhala hovered.

  “Coffee, please.”

  “So what’s this gift?” asked Carrie curiously.

  “The trials are finished, and our contraceptive’s ready to use. We can administer it in half-yearly or yearly doses, but I recommend that with the Jalna mission ahead of you, you ought to take the yearly one. I shouldn’t think you’d want to bear another cub out in the field!”

  Carrie grinned wryly with a sidelong glance at her mate. “I’ll pass on that, thank you. Not that Kusac and Kaid weren’t very good birthers, you understand.”

  “Of course,” agreed Vanna, opening her kit and taking out the hypoderm.

  “I’d prefer it if you didn’t, too,” said Kusac. “I was really very worried that something would go wrong.”

  “It all came right in the end, though,” said Carrie, rolling up her sleeve ready for Vanna.

  “I suggest you also offer this to the Sisters on the estate,” said Kusac, “Just as a precaution. We need more cubs for our new clan, but they must be conceived voluntarily and not because of Leska links.”

  “I had just such a request from T’Chebbi last night.” She glanced up at him. “I can’t think why. I don’t remember ever seeing her with any of the males around here.”

  Kusac exchanged a glance with Carrie. “She’s gone to Stronghold for the next couple of days.”

  “Probably got a lover up there, then,” said Vanna, packing her equipment away.

  You don’t think it’s Kaid, do you? sent Carrie on their private link.

  Pretty sure of it, cub. I remember how she reacted when we brought him back from Stronghold, and how she looked out for Dzaka.

  They do go back a long way. Did I ever tell you that Kaid chose her as my guard not only because she’s female, but because she’s about my size? He wanted someone I could be comfortable with.

  That was thoughtful of him. But I wonder�
�

  Don’t go matchmaking for him, she teased. She’s as much of a loner as he is.

  You merely prove my point, he replied placidly.

  “Mara seems to be settling in well at Ruth’s,” said Vanna as Zhala arrived with her drink. “She was an excellent choice, Carrie, and a brilliant idea. Already a couple of the Human females from the dig have gone over to see her, and they were chatting happily to Mara as well.”

  “Thank you. I’m just glad there was someone like her to find. Zhyaf’s been less morose, too, since we sent his sister back home and he was recruited for the Shanagi Project. Living at the center has opened his world out; he’s having to become more involved in a real life now. He’s even finding the work challenging.”

  “He’ll be back sometime today,” said Vanna. “It’s their Link day tomorrow. And he’s bringing Myak with him.”

  “Myak? Not Myak from the Khalossa?” asked Kusac, sitting up in surprise.

  “The same. It turns out he’s with AlRel.”

  “That crafty old bastard Raguul,” muttered Kusac. “All along he’s had a telepath acting undercover as his adjutant. No wonder he knew everything that was going on. That’s tracking downwind of Guild regulations.”

  “It’s a legitimate appointment, Garras says. Raguul requested him years ago because he’s so involved with diplomacy missions. Your father obviously thought it an excellent idea.”

  “But what’s Myak doing coming here?” asked Carrie. “I’d have thought he’d want to go home like everyone else on leave. And if he’s here, where’s Commander Raguul?”

  “Gone home, like you said. Why Myak’s coming here, I’ve no idea, but we think it’s connected with the Shanagi Project because you’ll never guess who else is there. Mito and Anders!”

  “What? They’re still together?” Carrie could hardly believe it.