At this time of night, the corridors were quiet, and her walk back was undisturbed. Pulling her key tag out of her pocket, she pointed it at the door, waiting impatiently for it to open.
She stepped inside, about to command the lights when she was grasped firmly from behind and a hand clapped over her mouth. For the space of five terrified heartbeats, she was held like this, then she was released.
“I wasn’t expecting you for another hour,” said Kezule’s voice from the darkness.
“Lights,” she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. “I don’t remember giving you my access code.”
“You didn’t,” he said, bending to pick up the door tag and reader she’d been carrying and handing them back to her. “I needed to get away from the Court and the damned guard who’s following me around.” He returned to the chair he’d been sitting on.
Still shaking, she went over to the table, putting the reader and key down on the polished wood surface. “Don’t do that again. You scared me,” she said, sitting down in the other chair. She noticed his drink. “I see you’ve been making yourself at home.”
“I was thirsty. You don’t have a nourishment dispenser.”
“I don’t live in the Court apartments,” she retorted. “If you wanted food, why didn’t you go back to your own apartment?”
“I’d only have been followed and told to return to the audience hall. How much longer will your Emperor keep me waiting until he gives me some kind of commission?” he asked, leaning forward in the chair. “There must be something I can do. He certainly doesn’t need any more useless courtiers.”
“I don’t know, Kezule,” she said, getting up and going over to the drinks unit to fetch herself an herbal tea. “I’m not part of the inner Court.” She selected her drink, waiting for it to be dispensed. As she picked up the widemouthed cup, she realized she was still shaking. “There’s gossip that the Emperor might choose you as his third adviser.” She returned to her seat and sat down.
Kezule hissed his derision. “Your Emperor Cheu’ko’h needs to command, not listen to so many advisers!”
Zayshul eyed him as she took a sip of her drink. “Your Emperor, too.”
“Not mine, yours. Q’emgo’h was a leader with fire in his veins. Yours has only ice water!”
“Times have changed,” she murmured. There was something different about him tonight, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Not for the better,” he scowled. “What of the young Warriors you have? They need training and there’s no one fit to train them here. Or the implanted guards? The right training techniques could remove the need to control them. Can’t you ask for me?”
“I’m a doctor, Kezule. I don’t have the contacts. You need to mix with the Inner Court and make your own relationships. Your uniform,” she said triumphantly, realizing what was different. “You’re not wearing your uniform. Where is it?”
“Concealed in a rest room in the Outer Court. I told you I was trying to evade my shadow.” Irritated, he got to his feet and began to pace round the small lounge. “I need to do something, Zayshul! This place, it hasn’t changed!” His expansive gesture took in more than the whole room. “It’s what it always was, a home for sycophants, for those who want to appear important but do nothing! I shall go mad if I remain here much longer!”
She watched him, well aware that he wasn’t exaggerating. “I might be able to help. My superior, the Medical Director, was concerned you were suffering from stress. I could speak to him again about finding you something. Perhaps, as you suggested, training the young Warriors,” she said slowly.
“Speak to him,” said Kezule, stopping and resting his hands on the back of the chair and staring intently at her.
“There will be a price, though. I don’t know if you’d be prepared to pay it in light of what you’ve said before.”
He stiffened. “What price?”
She looked away. “He wants you to breed.”
He was silent for so long that she looked up, afraid something had happened to him. There was a curious expression on his face, a mixture of shock and— almost pleasure.
“I had thought to wait a while longer, but if you are so anxious to have hatchlings…”
“Not me,” she said hurriedly. “My work is vital. The Medical Director wouldn’t allow me to take the time off. There are many young females interested in you. Already you’ve got quite a following.”
He gave a derisory laugh. “They are nothings, as empty-headed as drones and those on the Kz’adul. I told you, I will breed with you. You alone have the intellect I wish my young to inherit.”
“You don’t understand. You haven’t got a choice, Kezule. If you don’t breed, they’ll drug you and take what they want.”
The look on his face made her regret her decision to warn him.
“Have you told them I can control my fertility?” he asked, his voice deathly quiet.
“No, of course not,” she said, offended that he thought she’d betray his confidence.
“I was unconscious for three days before I woke on the Kz’adul. What was done to me during that time?” His grip on the chair back tightened, claws puncturing the fabric.
“Tests and scans to see if you needed any medication to help you heal, nothing more,” she said, breaking eye contact, unable to stop the fear scent she was emitting.
Time slowed: she saw the chair thrown to one side, watched as it hit the far wall and smashed against it. Almost simultaneously, she felt his hand grasp her throat as she was plucked out of her own.
She grasped his arm with both hands, utterly terrified, her scream choked off before it was made.
“You’re lying,” he hissed, tongue flicking out, crest raised to its full height. “Was I harvested like those from the M’zullian ship?”
Barely able to breathe, she was unable to do more than make gargling sounds. He shook her violently, making her head reel. When he stopped, he set her feet down on the ground, releasing the pressure just enough so she could speak. Head spinning, stomach heaving, she continued to clutch at his arm for support.
“Was I harvested? Are there hatchlings of mine in some laboratory?” he demanded, his face inches from hers.
“Yes!” she wept, tears running down her face. “It wasn’t my decision! It was the Director’s!”
“How many? What kind of doctor are you?”
“Med research, I work in med research.” Her legs buckled, refusing to keep her upright any longer and she began to choke again.
With a hiss of rage, he flung her back in the chair and stood towering over her.
“Tell me how many and where they are!”
“One hundred. In the growth lab,” she whimpered, reaching for her throat with a trembling hand. It felt damp and sticky and she could smell blood.
“Take me there now!” he commanded, grasping her by the shoulder and hauling her to her feet again.
Almost incoherent with terror, she shook her head.
“You will take me,” he hissed, tightening his grip till his claws bit into her again.
“I can’t! They’ll see us!” she shrieked in pain. “I’m bleeding!”
He hesitated, then shifted his grip to her upper arm, dragging her toward the sanitary facilities. Pushing the door open, he hauled her toward the washbasin then released her. “Clean yourself up,” he ordered. “You will take me there.”
Pulling the towel off the rail, with trembling hands she wet it under the tap and began dabbing at the blood.
“They’ll see us, recognize us both,” she said, in a hoarse voice.
“Without my uniform? I doubt it. You’d better pray they don’t!”
“They’ll think you’re a doctor if you wear one of my jackets.”
“Fetch me one.”
*
Half an hour later, she activated the palm lock on the entrance to her lab. Not knowing whether to be relieved or not when she saw it was deserted, she led him to the far end, pl
acing her hand on the lock panel.
He stood in the doorway, looking beyond her into the dimly lit room. Ten deep they stood, each bathed by the faint blue glow of the accelerated growth field. Within them, the tiny occupants twitched their limbs gently, obeying the commands of the neural stimulators.
Pushing her aside, Kezule entered, taking several steps into the room before stopping.
“They aren’t in any pain, they’re only being exercised so their muscles don’t atrophy,” she said.
Snarling, he approached the nearest tank, raising his clenched hand as if to hit it.
“Please don’t!” she exclaimed, reaching out automatically to stop him as she took a step forward. “The tanks are alarmed and you could kill her!”
“If it costs me my life, I’ll destroy them all before I’ll let this abomination continue!” he hissed, his crest rising to its full height.
“They’re yours, Kezule, your sons and daughters!” She was distraught herself now at the thought of the innocent lives he was prepared to sacrifice.
“They’re nothing to me,” he snarled, turning on her. “You brought them to life, not me!”
She held her ground, knowing that to back away would enrage him further. “Then why kill them? You’d only destroy a few before the guards came. The authorities wouldn’t kill you, they’d keep you alive and unconscious, use you to replace them! They’d never allow you to be free again! Is that what you want? To be kept alive only for breeding purposes?”
“It’s what they’re doing to me now!”
“No, they’re not,” she said. He was listening to her at last. “These are only the foundation of the new Warrior caste. The Emperor and his advisers are afraid of suddenly having too many Warriors all at once. They want to study them, educate them so they can be sure they’ll fit into our society, become our protectors.”
“What of me? Where do I fit in this godlike scheme of theirs?” he demanded.
“If you do what they want, breed with some of our females, they’ll do what they can to keep you content. You have a weapon they know nothing about, after all. You can control your fertility.”
“And them?” He indicated the hatchlings behind him. “How much of the Warrior remains in them? I saw what you’ve done to the M’zullians. Have you emasculated them, too?”
“Of course not! I told you, they want them to breed true. Very little has been altered in their genetic makeup, only your personal racial memories have been edited.”
He came closer, his crest beginning to sink down out of sight again. “Will they know me, or have you deprived them of that?”
Startled, she didn’t know how to reply. “I don’t know. Our young don’t rely on instincts like those. They’re brought up with both parents, not by drones as in your time.”
He pushed her aside and stormed off through the lab toward the door.
“Kezule! Wait!” she called after him, hurriedly sealing the door behind her.
the Couana, Zhal-S’Asha, 20th day (October)
Tired, but unable to sleep, he’d gone to the lounge, taking a mug of coffee with him. The first thing he noticed was the replacement entertainment unit. Going over to the table, he sat down on the chair where he’d sat the night he’d attempted suicide. He’d been serious when he’d told Banner that this journey was forcing him to relive the past. Whichever way he turned, there was no escaping the memories.
Running his hand across the surface in front of the console, he felt the faint scars the Sholan craftsmen had been unable to remove, and remembered the anger and hopelessness he’d felt that night. Toueesut had been more understanding about the damage than he’d had any right to expect. The Touiban’s main concern had been him from the first, but Toueesut had held his species’ natural enthusiasm and curiosity in check until he’d finally ventured outside the villa on foot for the first time.
Involuntarily, his hand went to the torc he wore round his neck. He owed Toueesut a lot, there was no doubt about that.
Yawning again, he put his mug down and resting his elbow on the table, propped his chin up on his hand.
It had been just after Carrie’s father had left for Keiss. Rhyaz had contacted the villa, asking that Captain Tirak and his crew be allowed to join the Sumaan as students of the Brotherhood. Kaid had called him to the comm, refusing point-blank to deal with the matter, even to the extent of leaving the villa so he was forced to make a decision.
Shola, Zhal-Ghyakulla, 22nd (June)
“Good to see you taking control again, Kusac,” Rhyaz said. “I want to thank you for allowing the Sumaan to train on your estate.”
“We got on well with them during the Jalna mission, Commander,” he said.
“I assume Kaid has briefed you?”
He nodded.
“I’ve had Captain Tirak and his crew here as guests for the last two days. They came to me with an interesting request from their government.”
That caught his interest. “Tirak’s at Stronghold?”
“Times are changing, Kusac. I’ve told Kaid to expect your military support at the estate to be suddenly withdrawn.”
“He told me. He and Ni’Zulhu have already implemented alternative arrangements.” Belatedly, he asked, “What’s going on?”
“Raiban’s making life damned difficult for our people working for the Forces. Petty things like demanding we be responsible for our own munitions and laundry bills.”
“But they’ve been employed by the Forces, it’s their responsibility.”
“Not according to her. She’s claiming her budget doesn’t include cash for looking after Brotherhood personnel. It’s making life tight, Kusac, damned tight. So we’re having to look elsewhere for contracts. Like Captain Tirak’s. His government want his people trained up to our standard of operational excellence, and they’re prepared to pay well for it. Naturally, you’ll also benefit financially if you’ll allow them to come to your estate. We just don’t have the facilities here and, to be honest, I’d prefer not to have outside influences around our juniors.”
“Tirak’s welcome, of course, Commander. He and his crew helped us when we needed it.”
“I realize they aren’t telepaths…”
“Alien minds aren’t a problem, Master Rhyaz,” he interrupted, aware of the tension in his own voice. “It takes years of training, or a rare Talent, to even be aware of their surface thoughts.”
Rhyaz nodded. “There are seven U’Churians, four Cabbarrans, and a Sholan, Jeran Khesrey. Essentially, those who were aboard the Profit.”
“I’ll see to arranging accommodation for them today. When will they be arriving?”
“Today, if possible. The Cabbarrans request permission to park their shuttle inside the estate to serve as their living quarters. Their quadrupedal bodies make it the most sensible option.”
“I’ll tell Ni’Zulhu to expect them.”
“Thank you. By the way, the Prime Ambassador is sending a package to you. Seems you and Carrie’s torcs turned up on the Kz’adul. They were found among Chy’qui’s personal effects.”
He sat looking at the blank screen for several minutes before rousing himself. Someone had to go down to the estate office and see the foreman to arrange suitable accommodation.
Carrie was up at the main house involved in preparations for Kitra’s wedding a few days hence. And Kaid had gone out, but T’Chebbi was somewhere around the house.
“I’ll go with you,” she said when he tracked her down to her room on the ground floor. “Not for you.”
“T’Chebbi, I’m not ready to go outside, and there’s Kashini…”
“You’re not her nursemaid, you’re a Clan Leader. Want to go alone?” she asked.
He could tell from her tone she meant it. “All right,” he snapped. “I’ll go!”
*
He didn’t like being outside the safety of the villa. Already the muscles on his scalp ached with the effort of constantly turning his ears this way and that to hear every little
noise. The unexpected sound of voices in a back garden had him pivoting round in a crouch, ready for a Challenge.
“Calm down,” said T’Chebbi, putting her hand on his arm. “Is your home estate, you’re safe. And I’m here.”
“I can take care of myself,” he said, straightening up.
Her clear gray eyes looked back at him calmly. “I know you can, Kusac. I’m here to keep you company, nothing more.”
He stopped dead and stared at her. “You’re speaking normally,” he said. “I didn’t think you could.”
“You were wrong. How do you think I became a Consortia?”
“What happened?” he asked, his customary indifference giving way to real curiosity about her past. They’d been occasional lovers before— the Primes— but she’d said little about her life before the Brotherhood.
“I lost my voice for several months when the Fleet took me.”
“And the Claws.”
“Them too,” she agreed. “Toueesut’s up ahead. Looks like he wants to talk.”
He looked around for an escape but her grip on his arm tightened.
“I had to live again, so must you.”
“I can’t cope with them right now,” he muttered, looking at the six garishly dressed bewhiskered aliens coming toward them. In the midst of the dancing and gyrating group, one figure stood out because of his stillness. Toueesut.
“You always got on with them better than anyone else did.”
“I read them, T’Chebbi! And I had a translator. I’ve got neither now. Mara’s the one they relate to,” he said, trying to back away surreptitiously.
“Translators not needed now,” she said, refusing either to let go or be dragged away. “Nor is Talent. They spoke better Sholan than they let on. You should have read the report from your father. Was all there.”
There was no time to say more as the group came to a halt a few feet from them.
“Clan Leader Kusac! May the sun shine on you! Welcome it is to be seeing you about the village at last! Now we be knowing for ourselves you are indeed getting better.”
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