“We didn’t expect him to leave before morning, Lijou. He did get extremely worked up about Zsurtul’s visit earlier but seemed to calm down during the evening. His attitude to the Primes is bad, very bad.”
“Primes as in Zsurtul, or the M’zullians?”
Kaid’s ears flicked back. “He doesn’t like the M’zullians, but Zsurtul seems to upset him more, now you come to mention it. He knows what we owe the Prince, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference.”
“How does Zsurtul take this? Is he aware of it?”
“Must be. The youngling can be hard to read at times, however he’s been very understanding over the odd incident.”
“I wonder if the Prince knows more than he’s telling us. Could there be something about him that’s setting Kusac off?”
“His scent, you mean? Kusac can certainly tell Zsurtul from the M’zullians by scent, we can’t. According to him we’re supposed to smell like the officer caste to the M’zullians, that’s why they don’t have problems with us. They’re more Valtegan than Prime, though.”
“Leave that for now. You can always ask Zsurtul if you get a chance, though don’t make an issue out of it. I’ll have a word with Kusac when he arrives here and get back to you. Meanwhile, be patient with Carrie for the next few weeks. It might feel like you’re living on the edge of a volcano now and then, but it’s as bad for her, if not worse. I take it Banner is on his way here.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Kaid said with a wry smile. “Yes, Banner took off after him. By the way, Kusac had a pain episode while he was here and went to see Annuur about it. He told us Annuur says his Talent is restricted to empathy for now. Is that right?”
“Essentially,” said Lijou. “Kha’Qwa and I have been teaching him various meditation skills to help him calm himself and get a peaceful night’s sleep. What else did Annuur say?”
“Kusac wouldn’t tell us. I had to go ask Annuur myself. Apparently the pain is psychological— he expects it so it’s there. As for the rest, his system is still adjusting to the treatment. When it does, then the fragments of memories causing nightmares will come together and he’ll be able to deal with them. Sounds a lot like he’s suffering from a form of partial amnesia.”
“Nothing new, then. That’s good at least. Leave it with me, Kaid. I’ll get back to you when I can.”
“I appreciate it, Lijou. I know you’re busy right now. Tirak tells me they move out tomorrow for Anchorage.”
“Does he? Then he must be getting one of the new ships. I know we took delivery of the first six scouters a week ago. Rhyaz stayed on at Anchorage to see the trials. They went well, he said. Our Watchers will be up and running within the next two weeks. We’re moving the last of our Brothers and Sisters up to Haven today. Stronghold will soon seem very empty with only us and the juniors here.”
“You’ll be handling the six monthly training rotations, though.”
Lijou looked startled, knowing Kaid was referring to the Sleepers. “You’re remarkably well informed,” he said. “As usual.”
Kaid shrugged. “You know me. Kzizysus has asked to stay on with us when Annuur and his sept leave tomorrow with Tirak. He’s going to be working with the Telepath Guild hospital for the next few months so he’ll be here if we need him for Kusac.”
“Good. I’d hate to be without any support for him if we need it. Oh, before I go, I meant to tell you. One of our Brothers died in fight at a Warrior Guildhouse in Shanagi a couple of days ago.”
“Oh? Not our old friends Jebousa and Vikkul?”
“The very same. Seems Vikkul turned on Jebousa with a knife. He was killed and Jebousa’s been hospitalized. He’s due back here in a few days.”
“A falling out of villains. I don’t think he’ll be mourned, Lijou.”
“I thought I should tell you.”
“Thank you. We’ll hear from you later, then.”
N’zishok, the same day
Shaidan was awake and sitting up in his bed reading when Kezule entered the sick bay. This was the first time he’d visited him when he was awake. His other visits had been conducted in the dead of night when he’d been able to sit at the bedside and study him. The rounded childish features already had an unmistakable look of his father about him, and some indefinable quality of his Human mother. He found it difficult to comprehend that this child was only two years younger than his sons and daughters yet was still so very much a child.
The Sholans obviously invested far more time in raising their young, but then they lacked the ability to pass on memories from generation to generation. He suddenly thought of his own child safe in its shell in the heated incubator. How could it know his past with no drones for him to give his memories to? Only drones could secrete the memory-carrying chemicals— but drones no longer existed as a separate caste. And did he want this first real child of his to know all he’d been through, inherit a knowledge of a faded Empire that was no longer relevant? Perhaps the lack of drones was a good way to ensure a new start for his people, to forget empires and God-Kings who were no more godlike than he was.
He pushed his introspective mood aside and stepped into the small ward. Now it was time to meet the person behind the child’s sleeping face.
Immediately Shaidan saw him, he closed the book.
Kezule pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat down. “You’re Shaidan,” he said. “Do you know who I am?”
“The General,” he said. “You rescued us from the place we were in.”
“Do you know why you needed rescuing?”
He frowned, eye ridges meeting, ears tilting back slightly as he considered the question carefully. “Aunt said they were unpleasant people who intended to harm us.”
“They intended to use you for tests to see how your mental abilities worked,” he said, pleased to see Zayshul had managed to train him to make eye contact.
“Do you like the book?” he asked when the cub said nothing more.
“Yes, General.”
Again Kezule waited, but Shaidan remained silent. He was answering only what he was asked. Good.
“In a few days, you’ll be leaving here and coming to stay in our quarters. Your injuries will be painful for some time yet so the doctor wants to look after you herself.”
“Yes, General,” he said quietly.
“Is there anything you’d like to know?”
“No, General. I’m a vassal, I do what I’m told. Curiosity is not acceptable.”
“Who told you that?”
For a moment, Shaidan looked confused. “The Seniormosts where we lived until you came for us.”
“They were right. You’ll be told what you need to know, Shaidan,” he said, getting up and putting the chair back against the wall. “When you talk to anyone but the doctor or me, you must remember your training and keep your eyes on the ground. Vassals may not look others in the eyes. Since you now belong to me and the doctor, it is permissible for you to do it with us unless told otherwise. Do you understand?”
“Yes, General.”
“Goodnight, Shaidan.”
“Goodnight, General.”
*
Zayshul was at the other end of her sick bay, working. “You were right about Shaidan,” she said, studying the images on the monitor. “He is Carrie’s and Kusac’s son. Those data cards Zhalmo took from the Directorate lab had all the breeding information on the cubs. She said she didn’t see any stasis storage area in the lab, did you? Or it could have been in the stasis room itself.”
“No, why?”
“Because going from what’s here, Chy’qui accelerated the females’ egg development with hormones and was able to take five from each of them. He only used eight of the ten. Mind you, he’d have to leave one for Carrie to become pregnant,” she mused, before looking up at him. “He could have one more egg and all the males’ samples.”
“The team at the top of the exit didn’t see anyone trying to get out. I think we got him, Zayshul.�
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“He’s slippery, that one. I wouldn’t depend on it. He posed as Chy’qui’s steward and when he died, I found he’d been reassigned to me. I remember him trying to sniff round my lab on the Kz’adul. You told Khayikule that you’d lost him.”
“I was being cautious,” he said. “Who do the other cubs belong to?”
“Dhyshac is Kaid’s and Kate’s, Gaylla is Kate’s and Taynar’s— Chy’qui aborted her mother’s existing embryo to study it in order to get the growth tank medium right. I think Gaylla’s slow because her mother wasn’t allowed time to recover from the aborted fetus before being forced to produce more eggs. Vazih is Rezac’s and Kate’s, and Zsaya is Carrie’s and Rezac’s.”
“Kaid was the third one who brought me to this time,” he said. “Point this child out to me.”
“You’re not thinking of keeping two of them, are you? Because I’ll tell you…”
“No, only Shaidan.”
“Good. I’ve prepared sleep tapes for them, Kezule, to get rid of K’hedduk’s programming. They can’t go back to their families thinking they’re slaves to the Prime Empire. That could really harm our treaty with the Sholans.”
“Use them on all but Shaidan. I want him left as he is.”
“What? Kezule, that child has done nothing to you! Why in the name of the God-Kings do you want him to behave like a slave!”
“Not for me. I want his father to see it.”
“I don’t understand you. You want Kusac’s help yet you’re willing to antagonize him by dangling his son in front of him as a slave.”
“As he is, Shaidan asks no questions, he obeys me instantly. That’s what I want, the obedience and the lack of curiosity. Just bear with me, Zayshul, I know what I’m doing.” He got to his feet. “We’ll reach our destination in a few hours. Finish what you’re doing and come back to our quarters. I want you to get some sleep. We’ll all have more than enough to do once we arrive at the outpost.”
CHAPTER 18
the Outpost Kij’ik, Zhal-Nylam, 17th day (September)
“Fan out,” ordered Kezule, gesturing to the far side of the landing bay in the heart of the asteroid called Kij’ik.
The light beams set on their helmets pierced the darkness, as, guns powered and ready, they split into two flanks, each moving to one side. Kezule led the right flank while M’zynal, the weapons officer, led the left.
Movement was easy in the powered armor, and the visibility was superb, far better than anything they’d had in his day, thought Kezule as he turned his head inside the helmet to check on M’zynal’s unit. They advanced slowly, picking their way around the long abandoned containers and drums, debris of his vanished people.
“At least they left the grav plates on,” he heard someone murmur.
“Hold the private comments,” he ordered sharply, scanning walls lined with levers, power sockets and clip-in racks for tools no longer there.
“Where the hell is the main breaker?” he muttered to himself as his flashlight played over the standard warning messages for loaders and mechanics.
He almost missed it, surrounded as it was by posters advertising upcoming fights and athletic competitions. Angrily, he grasped hold of them, ripping them from the wall and letting them fall to the deck. Now he could clearly see the small screen with the keypad below, and the faint glow of the stand-by light.
He gave a sigh of relief. So far, so good. The main power source was still functioning— at least enough to feed this master control panel. He began keying in his personal ID, praying that they hadn’t changed their system in the last days before the outpost was abandoned. Only senior officers like himself had the clearance to activate or deactivate such a facility. As he punched in the final digit, he remembered that he’d been taken off active service several months before the Sholan Telepaths had struck.
For several heart-stopping seconds he waited, then the panel lit up.
“Identity accepted,” responded the station computer. “Additional password required.”
Additional password? He didn’t have one! What the hell was it on about? He thought furiously, trying to figure out what the damned machine wanted.
“Maybe all it needs is a command, sir,” said M’kou.
“Worth a try,” he muttered, and punched in Reactivate.
“Password accepted.”
He could feel the humming through the soles of his boots. Gradually it built in volume until it was audible in his suit speakers. One by one, panels in the ceiling began to illuminate until suddenly, the landing bay was flooded with light.
The visor in his helmet polarized instantly, cutting out any glare and preventing him from being momentarily blinded.
“Force field’s coming on at the entrance, sir!” yelled one of the males near their shuttle.
Kezule glanced behind him, seeing the faint glow building round the edge of the bay doors. As he turned back to the panel, a flicker of movement caught his eye. One of the posters he’d pulled off the wall was slowly traveling across the floor. On the control panel, he could see a rapidly advancing counter. Atmospheric pressure. Air was being pumped into the bay. He wasn’t going to rely on the station display alone, his suit would confirm it for him. Flicking his tongue out, he toggled the appropriate key on his helmet interior and turned to survey the rest of the landing bay while keeping an eye on the faint holo display projected onto the inside of his visor.
It was vast. Two N’zishoks would fit in with plenty of room to spare. And it was empty, stripped clean, apart from the abandoned drums and containers.
“Stay alert,” he ordered. “I want this level cleared before we proceed further. Assume there could be sentients or animal life now alerted to our presence.”
He turned back to the panel— the counter was still running.
“Display status of life support on all levels,” he ordered.
“Life support functioning at optimum performance on levels one through four.”
“Recycle atmosphere on levels two through four.”
“Initiating atmosphere recycling procedure.”
“Report life signs on any deck.”
“Cannot comply. This terminal cannot access that function.”
Damn! “Locate main command center.”
“Main command center is located on level two by elevator A.”
“Locate elevator A.”
“Elevator A is located to the left of this terminal.”
“Landing bay secured, General,” said M’zynal. “There’s nothing of use here.”
“Regroup on me,” said Kezule. “M’zynal, delegate guards for the elevator, the rest of us are going to the command center on level two.”
*
“What take so long reach here?” demanded a translator as the doors to the command center began to open. The TeLaxaudin perched on the Commander’s chair unfolded his limbs and stood up. His space suit, lying on the chair beside him, resembled a discarded skin.
“Why am I not surprised?” Kezule murmured to himself.
*
Six hours later, tired but jubilant, they returned to the N’zishok. Once on board, Kezule headed for the bridge to address the crew on the PA.
“Kij’ik is inhabitable,” he said. “The N’zishok will land at 21.00 tonight. All systems are functioning at optimum performance. Levels one and two have been secured and the rest of the station isolated for the time being. A team has been left in the command center on the second level and will be relieved by the third watch in two hours time. On arrival, those designated command staff will crew the center while the rest will start making the living quarters habitable. It will take a great deal of hard work to make this outpost operational again for our needs. You know your watch designations, and your officers. Each watch will be eight hours long. Those of you who are off duty now, ensure that you’ve had enough sleep before you’re due on again.” He hesitated briefly before continuing. “Finally, we have an unexpected guest. A TeLaxaudin called Giyarishis.
Treat him with all respect and give him what aid he requests. General Kezule out.”
*
When he returned to his quarters, he found Shaidan lying in a makeshift bed on the sofa watching Gaylla play. Zayshul was working at the table on her comm.
“You found Giyarishis waiting on the station, didn’t you?” she said, looking round at him.
Kezule pushed aside his niggling thoughts on her perceptiveness. “Yes. What’s he doing out of sick bay?” he demanded quietly, joining her.
“He was scared. I brought him here to free the nurse for watch duty,” she said, looking up at him. “He’s too young to be left in there on his own, Kezule.”
Kezule grunted, seeing the sense in her reasoning. “It’s time Gaylla went back to the others. I don’t want any problems when it comes to handing her over to the Sholans.”
Zayshul sighed. “Very well. Can she stay tonight? She’s unsettled too because of all the frantic activity.”
He hesitated. “Tonight’s the last night,” he said. “She goes in with the others tomorrow morning.” He yawned. “I’m too tired to go to the mess to eat. Can you get them to send our meals here?”
“Aren’t you worried about there being a TeLaxaudin on Kij’ik?”
“No. Should I be? Didn’t they help your people survive the Fall? It pleases me. I want you and Giyarishis to do some research into what made you females feral in the first place. It may be possible to undo it. I’d like something in my back pocket in case we end up facing trouble from the M’zullians or J’kirtikkians. Not that I expect us to,” he added, seeing her face take on a worried look. “And see about giving our females the same drink you were given at our wedding so they can breed.”
“It has to be a matter of choice, Kezule.”
“Of course,” he agreed.
She nodded, and began keying in the communications interface. “How well preserved is the station really?”
“Remarkably,” he said, taking off his jacket and putting it on the back of the chair. “But then it’s fusion powered, few moving parts, not a lot to go wrong with the basics. However, we’ve only seen the landing bay, and command area. The outpost has drifted some in fifteen hundred years, but that was to be expected. I want to nudge it a little farther into the asteroid belt just in case your people come here looking for us.”
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