razorsedge

by Lisanne Norman

  “I get the feeling they were expecting this.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Rezac. “How could they anticipate something like this?”

  “We were told the Jalnians were a violent people, so violent that none of the species who trade here want them allowed into space,” said Jo. “We’ve never witnessed anything to substantiate this allegation— till now. Perhaps this is what they were talking about.”

  “One incident isn’t enough to base an assumption like that on,” said Kris, turning away.

  “I agree, but could their violence be seasonal? We arrived at the end of a late winter. Now it’s spring.”

  “Why should it be seasonal?” asked Rezac, leaving the window to take a seat at the worktable.

  “Spring is the mating season on most worlds,” said Jo. “Maybe it’s something to do with that.”

  “Do your people become violent in the mating season?” asked Rezac curiously. “Ours don’t. Our females have personal seasons, but they aren’t tied into the weather cycles of Shola.”

  Jo flushed slightly. Rezac had been taking an interest in Human customs lately and had been making a point of asking her for information.

  “No,” was her short reply.

  “They have a cycle that matches that of the Earth’s moon,” said Davies, taking sole control of the window now that the others were gone. “But I don’t know how that’s affected them either on Shola or here, given the moon doesn’t have a twenty-eight-day orbit on either world.”

  “This is getting a little too personal, fellas,” said Jo in a tone that effectively stopped the conversation. “We were talking about the Jalnians. Could they have violent episodes caused by a reaction to wind-borne pollen?”

  “It hasn’t been thawing long enough for that,” said Kris, picking up the cables he was working on. “I’d say we have to wait and see if it happens again. I’d like to know who the chap in that blue robe was, though.”

  Jo settled herself at the main table where she continued sorting and dismantling components from damaged boards.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs a few minutes later made them all look toward the door.

  “Killian and one other,” said Rezac.

  Jo found his abilities uncanny. He had a knack for correctly telling them how many people were approaching their door before they arrived. He said he didn’t fully trust his psychic senses, but for all that, he was seldom wrong and his mind was always on the alert.

  The guard on duty outside opened the door and stepped inside, checking the room before confirming it was safe for his Lord to enter. A younger man, somewhere in his early twenties, followed Killian inside.

  “How goes the work today?” demanded the Lord, striding over to the table to examine what they were doing. “What’re these?” He gestured at several panels connected to each other by thick wires.

  “Don’t touch,” said Kris hurriedly, putting a hand out to block Killian’s inquisitive finger. “These’ll be the units that will enable us to control the weapon. This laser wasn’t designed to be used independently, it was supposed to be an integral part of a scouter. We have to adapt everything, including the power it uses.”

  “What powers these?”

  “The same battery that’ll power the laser,” said Davies, pointing to a large cylindrical container stored under their worktable.

  Killian shook his head, obviously no wiser. “These are matters for the priests,” he said, “not for the likes of me. I’m a soldier, fighting’s been my life. You told me that this… laser… is downstairs in the guarded chamber. When will you be working on that?”

  “Until we get these units made, we can’t begin to work on the actual laser,” said Rezac, looking up from where he was painstakingly attempting to mount some of the smaller components onto a board. “We’ve told you there are many weeks of work to be done before we can give you your weapon. We’re just grateful their tech level is so primitive.”

  The younger man, meanwhile, had edged closer to the other table until he was standing beside Jo, looking at what she was doing.

  “You’re taking this apart,” he said, his tone one of suspicion.

  She looked up at him. Dark, penetrating eyes bored into hers, demanding without words to know what she was doing. Instinctively she glanced over to Killian, then back to him. There was a resemblance in the square shape of the jawline and the set of the eyes.

  “Yes, I am,” she said, putting down the tweezerlike tool she’d been using. “These panels are too damaged to use, so I’m taking off the sound components. They’ll be checked to see they’re working, then we can use them to build the control panels we need.”

  He leaned closer, his plaited scalp lock falling forward across his face. He brushed it behind his ear, then reached out to pick up one of the small gray components.

  “They have script on them,” he said, turning it round to examine it from every angle. “Symbols such as priests and mages use.”

  “It identifies what the piece does.”

  “It looks like a stone. How can this do anything?” he asked, turning the component over between his fingers. Light glinted off the tiny locating pegs on its base.

  “We pass an electrical current through it.”

  He placed it back on the table. “Our priests and mages know of electricity,” he said. “The power of the Storm God, they say.”

  “Um. Yes. Well, I wouldn’t know,” she said, at a loss for a reply.

  This time he reached for a panel that was splintered and broken. “How do you get the pieces off? They look to be one with this plate.”

  “They just pull out.”

  “Taradain,” called Killian.

  “Coming, Father,” he replied, putting the panel back down. “I’ll return tomorrow so you can tell me more about this,” he said before turning to leave. “They should dine with us tonight, Father,” he said. “Belamor wanted to speak with them: he could do so at dinner.”

  “I told you, I don’t want word getting around that we have off-worlders here,” said Killian, his tone one of censure.

  “All but the furred one could pass as Jalnians,” said Taradain, joining him at the doorway.

  Killian looked round the room. “Where is the other?” he demanded.

  “She’s feeling unwell,” said Kris. “She’s lying down.”

  Killian gestured to his son to go and check. As he made for the bedroom door, Rezac rose to his feet with a growl of anger.

  Jo watched Kris clamp his hand firmly on the Sholan’s arm. No! He’s only checking that she’s there. He won’t touch her.

  She could feel him primed for an explosion if he picked up the slightest distress from his Leska. His tail was rigid and beginning to bush out as his low, ominous growl continued.

  Taradain did no more than open the door and glance within before shutting it again. “She’s there,” he confirmed.

  Slowly Rezac began to relax and as he did, Jo sensed what Zashou had been talking about when she said his attitude to life was confrontational. To be prepared for trouble was one thing, to expect it all the time was to live on a razor’s edge. The sooner they escaped from here and returned Rezac and Zashou to Shola, the better. They’d lived for too long without the normal securities of life.

  “Is she sick?” demanded Killian. “If she needs medicines, I can send my apothecary to you.”

  “She’ll be fine,” said Jo. “It’s the lack of fresh air, that’s all. We need to get out now the thaw’s begun.” She looked hopefully at Killian, trying not to push her suggestion mentally. “The Sholans particularly. They aren’t used to remaining indoors for long periods of time.”

  “If you’d made more progress, then you’d be working from the chamber where this laser is stored,” Killian replied, waiting for his son to precede him from the room. “There is plenty of fresh air there.”

  As the door closed behind them, Kris let out a sigh of relief.

  “Good try,” said Davies.
“It might work, you never know. Getting him to let Rezac and Zashou out into the fresh air will be difficult, they’re too obviously alien. Looks like you’ve got an admirer, Jo. Killian’s son seemed quite taken with you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “He’s right, Jo,” said Kris. “I was definitely picking up an interest in you from him. Be careful. If we end up going down to eat with them, don’t let Taradain take you off alone.”

  “Lay off it, you two,” she said scornfully. “Why should he be interested in me?”

  “It’s not you I’m concerned about,” said Kris, looking back at his work. “Just remember how the Jalnians view women. We’re outside whatever codes of conduct their polite circle has because we’re only alien captives.”

  “It’s been a long winter. He’s probably bored with the women of the keep,” said Davies.

  “He’s not going to jeopardize our work here by making a pass at me.”

  “He’s right,” growled Rezac. “You shouldn’t go. Stay here with us, let the males eat with them. I won’t be there to protect you.”

  Jo felt Kris’ quick flash of annoyance. “I’ll protect her if need be, Rezac,” he said stiffly.

  “I’m quite capable of protecting myself,” Jo snapped, annoyed with both of them. “Don’t either of you confuse me with the Jalnian females.” She got up and headed for her room, wanting a break from the intensity of emotions that were filling her mind. She still hadn’t mastered shielding enough to cut out strong sending, but a few yards and a wooden door added to the barriers she could erect.

  As she stormed across the room, she heard the sound of tiny claws accompanying her. When she opened the bedroom door, Scamp darted in before she could stop him. Annoyed as she was with the two men, she didn’t have the patience to chase the jegget and evict him. She shut the door firmly behind her and flung herself down on the bed. Moments later, she felt a thump beside her and a small, wet nose pushed its way through her hair to nuzzle her cheek.

  *

  Rezac huffed and got to his feet. “I’ll talk to her,” he growled.

  “No,” said Kris, pushing his chair back so fast it screeched across the floorboards. “I don’t think so, Rezac. She’s our concern, not yours.”

  He knocked on the door, waiting for a reply. When none came, he opened it and entered.

  “Look, Jo, unlike Rezac, I didn’t mean to suggest you couldn’t defend yourself,” he said awkwardly, closing the door behind him. “I was only trying to alert you to the possibility of a situation developing.”

  “I know exactly what you and Rezac meant. I told you, it isn’t going to happen,” she said, dislodging Scamp and sitting up. “He’s got no chance of getting me on my own and neither has anyone else, so you can both forget it!”

  “I didn’t mean that. I can’t vouch for Rezac, but I certainly didn’t.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous of him!”

  “It’s not jealousy. He’s Sholan, for God’s sake. Why should I be jealous of a Sholan? I know how you feel about aliens after your experiences with the Valtegans. It’s just that recently he’s been trying to get too involved with you and what you’re doing.”

  Jo had noticed Rezac’s changed attitude toward herself and put it down to a desire on his part to understand the Humans more. However, if it was making Kris jealous, then perhaps there was more to it.

  “Don’t think I’m not aware of your interest in me, Kris, but I’m not about to jeopardize this mission by getting involved with anyone. Grant me at least some modicum of professionalism,” she said coldly.

  “What mission, Jo?” he asked quietly. “It’s done, finished. We found out about the cube— and we’re captives, marooned here on Jalna for God knows how long!” He moved closer, his tone becoming persuasive. “Who’d blame us for taking comfort in a closer relationship if that was what we both wanted? Davies won’t, and Rezac’s got his Leska.”

  Jo slid off the bed and stood up, eyeing him warily. Scamp began chittering loudly and angrily at both of them.

  “You’d better see to your pet. He’s a giveaway, Kris. He’s too tied into your mind not to let me know how you feel.”

  His face took on a slightly stricken look. “How did you find out?”

  “You and Rezac constantly mind-speaking to me has increased my awareness. Now I’d prefer you to leave. As you said, I shouldn’t let myself be alone with men. I might come to harm.” She laced her voice with heavy sarcasm.

  Stopping only long enough to call Scamp to his side, Kris turned abruptly on his heel and stalked out. Left alone, Jo sat back down on the bed feeling decidedly shaky.

  *

  The invitation to dine came later that day via Durvan, who arrived complete with a change of clothing for all the Humans, including a more revealing dress for Jo.

  “Now tell me he isn’t interested,” muttered Kris as he headed for the bedroom to wash and change.

  Left alone with Davies, Jo sighed.

  “You’re going to have to decide,” he said, getting up.

  “Decide what?” she asked tiredly. The day had been depressing, with her speaking to neither Rezac nor Kris, and both males avoiding her as much as was possible in their cramped environment.

  “Which one you want.”

  She sat up, shocked by what he’d said. “Which one?” she echoed.

  “Come on, Jo. You must be the only one who hasn’t noticed. Why d’you think Zashou’s been so touchy the last couple of days?”

  “You’re mistaken! You must be! I’ve done nothing to make either of them think… How could they think that!”

  “In a way it’s really got nothing to do with you,” he said, leaning forward to touch her cheek gently. “They’re interested in you, I didn’t say you were interested in them. Something you might want to consider, given Rezac’s lack of trust of us, I have a suspicion his interest has something to do with the fact you’re a telepath. He wants you for your mind,” he said with a grin.

  “Not funny, Gary. He’s got a Leska. He can’t have more than one…” she faltered, looking up at him. “Can he?”

  “He’s one of the first telepaths altered by Vartra. Who’s to say what he’s capable of? I don’t know, you’d have to ask Kris. Maybe Rezac can have a Human Leska as well as a Sholan one.”

  “I can’t ask Kris that!”

  “Make up your mind as soon as you can, Jo, and put them both out of their misery. This atmosphere isn’t good for any of us.”

  “I don’t want either of them! I made that clear to Kris. I can’t speak to Rezac because he hasn’t said anything to me yet!”

  “He will,” said Davies, moving off to change. “If I’m right, he won’t have any option, and maybe neither will you.”

  *

  Rezac sat in the chair by the fire after they’d left, half-dozing in the warmth. Zashou was still lying down. It was nothing much, only that her cycle had restarted. After so long in stasis, it wasn’t surprising her first should make her feel poorly.

  Zashou was aware of his interest in the Human female, but, he hoped, not the nature of it. Unfortunately, she couldn’t have cared less. It had begun innocently enough, with him hoping through Jo’s stories, and that of the other Humans, that Zashou could see that when you live in brutal times, you often had to be equally brutal yourself to combat it.

  The relief of having other telepaths to talk to after so long meant that he’d frequently touched Jo’s mind, grown accustomed to the feel of it. She hadn’t shrunk away from him because he’d been a fighter. She didn’t like conflict, but then who in their right mind did? She would be prepared to do what was necessary to win.

  Now, though, what had been a meeting of similar minds, was more. Almost against his will, he felt drawn to her, as he’d been further drawn to Zashou by the forming of their Link. There was a difference in the degree of the pull, however. It had nothing like the intensity of the Leska Link.

  It had come as a s
hock to him, to find himself attracted to an alien female. He’d despised the Valtegans for just such behavior, and the one time the Emperor had decided to see what a Sholan female was like, he’d gone into a red fury— until they’d used their control bracelets on him. Zashou had instantly reacted to not only his anger but also his punishment, and the experiment was never repeated. It had nearly cost them their lives, happening as it did, early in their captivity. Emperor Q’emgo’h, however, hadn’t been prepared to lose his pets quite so quickly.

  From Jo’s mind, he knew about the reality of the mixed Leskas, and though he was convinced it was to do with Vartra’s gene enhancement, he was at a loss to know why he, a Sholan male, should find her attractive, unless it was another form of psychic link. Without realizing it, his thoughts began to drift back to the past.

  Rezac sat watching the screen, waiting for the weekly report from the Laasoi Peninsula to come up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Zashou padding over in his direction, clipboard in hand. She stopped beside him.

  “How’s it going?” she asked. “Any info for me yet?”

  “Not finished loading,” he said shortly, pulling down his sweater sleeves again. The erratic heating in the underground labs was worse than usual today. He’d been alternately chilly then overly warm all morning, and it was making him uncomfortable and edgy. On top of that, against his will, he’d kept finding himself looking over to where she was working. Now, all he could think of was her scent and his overwhelming desire to take hold of her.

  “Will it be much longer? Vartra needs this urgently.”

  “S’cuse me,” said Jaisa as she squeezed round behind them.

  With an exclamation of surprise, Zashou stumbled against him, her free hand going out to clutch at him in an effort to break her fall.

  Instinctively, his hands went out to catch her. As they touched, his mind exploded in a myriad of flickering images. Where her hand lay within his, his skin felt seared, burned by the intensity of her touch.

  “Oh, sorry,” he heard Jaisa say. He knew she was reaching out to help Zashou. She mustn’t touch them, he realized as he fought the mental confusion of the images in an effort to communicate his alarm to her.