“They were taken to the medical unit for treatment. Beyond that, I know nothing, not even what the Primes look like!”
“You’re running their errands! You must know more than that!”
“I’m a captive like you. I do just that, run their errands, under guard. I’ve been sent to check on the male.”
“You caused his condition!” snarled Kaid, giving him another shake.
“They know that,” said the priest quietly when he’d stopped. “Now release me and let me do my job. If I were you, I’d not earn their displeasure. It isn’t me they’ll punish.”
Kaid snarled his anger but released him. Something was wrong about this priest. He followed him, watching J’koshuk as he checked Rezac’s dressings, felt his pulse. Obviously satisfied, J’koshuk turned to leave, and found Kaid blocking his way.
“What about her?” He indicated Jo.
“I wasn’t instructed to check her.”
“Where did you get your medical training in Sholan physiology?
J’koshuk looked startled. “What do you mean?”
“Where did your sudden concern for us come from, J’koshuk? You hate us as a species, want nothing more than to destroy us. What changed?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do what the Primes order me to do,” he blustered, but Kaid could see his protuberant eyes widening in fear.
“You hadn’t noticed, had you? What have they done to you, J’koshuk? What price are you paying for being their messenger? Get out of here, and don’t bother coming back. Tell your masters you’re not welcome.”
“I have no choice,” J’koshuk said, his face turning a sickly yellowish hue as the color drained from it. The scent of his fear grew stronger, pervaded the room. “I must do as they order me.”
Kaid stood aside. “Then don’t return here without information for me,” he said quietly. “I want to know what the Primes want with us, and if any of your people have gone missing.”
J’koshuk edged past him into the main room. As he did, the door hissed open to reveal armed guards, rifles pointed at him.
“Do not intimidate the Interface,” the translator intoned as J’koshuk fled to safety.
* * *
They woke Jo and Rezac, and though mindful of the fact they were injured, searched them thoroughly for any monitoring devices. They found nothing. Neither of them had any memory of even leaving the room, and only the fact that Rezac had fresh dressings and Jo’s cannula had been removed, convinced them that anything at all had happened. That night, no one wanted to go to the bedrooms. They preferred to remain together in the lounge.
* * *
Day 9
The next day, J’koshuk awoke to a pulsing in his collar—his alarm call. Flinging his clothes on, he quickly headed for the food dispenser and chose some eggs and the warm herbal drink he’d had the night before. He didn’t relish facing a day with stomach problems. He’d barely finished when the soldiers arrived for him.
They led him to a room up the corridor, away from his own and the Sholan quarters. As soon as he entered it, he could feel the pigment drain from his face. Walls and floor were tiled in white, a color he knew showed up the brightness of blood to devastating effect. The lighting was bright but could be intensified by moving the large circular units standing a short distance away. It reminded him too forcefully of his office in Geshader, on Keiss.
In the center stood a chair with a rack of surgical implements close beside it. The chair was different, more comfortable than his interrogation chair had been, padded in an easily cleaned seamless fabric, but it reclined from upright to a full bed size, with attached anchorage points for wrists and ankles as well as neck. And at the neck was a series of wired contacts that he knew instantly fixed onto collars like his. It might also look like a medical room, but he didn’t need the old scent of Valtegan fear to tell him its last purpose had been for interrogation.
An armored glove closed with a viselike grip on his shoulder, propelling him into the room. He knew his options—he went quietly, or he suffered pain and went anyway. Pulling away, he found he was released instantly. Walking over to the chair, he sat down, noticing somewhere deep in his mind that it fit him easily. The guards stayed where they were and he realized with surprise, they had no intention of fastening him down.
The minutes passed and it grew more difficult to avoid staring at the instruments on the rack. He concentrated on looking around the room again, examining it, looking for the subtle differences. It was spacious compared to his room in Geshader, and a palace compared to the cargo hold on the M’ijikk. He smelled antiseptic in the air, overlying the strengthening scent of fear he knew was his own. Four sealed body-sized units backed onto the far wall. Above them were monitor screens. Maybe it doubled as an emergency medical room. It certainly wasn’t the main one he’d accompanied the unconscious Rezac to.
The heavy sound of approaching feet made him turn to look over his shoulder. Two of the Seniormost Primes. He quickly turned back, hoping they hadn’t noticed him, but it was impossible to tell under those helmets.
They came round in front of him, arms hanging easily at their sides.
“We will question you now. You are our Interface, one who will move freely among the captives if you prove your honesty. We do not expect lies. If you lie, we will know it and one of the guards will punish you. They have been adjusted to have no compunctions about inflicting pain. They will stop only when ordered. Is that understood?”
J’koshuk blinked rapidly, unable to stop his fear sphincters releasing their scent. They adjusted their own kind? What was behind those visors? What manner of beings were they?
“Why did you take the ship called Rryuk’s Profit?” asked the flat, mechanical voice.
“For the navigators, the Cabbarans,” he said quickly. Keeping information from the Primes wouldn’t help him. There were several among the bridge crew who could tell them this.
“Why?”
The voice seemed to come slightly from one side this time, but he couldn’t be sure. It unsettled him, not knowing which one he was talking to.
“We were disgraced at home and couldn’t return without facing our execution. We hoped the navigators would buy us our lives.”
“What value have these aliens to your kind?”
“They can navigate during jumps.”
“The nature of your disgrace?”
He turned his head slightly, looking from one to the other. Which one had spoken? “We lost our Rest and Recuperation world to the Sholans when they answered a distress call from the Humans.”
Silence, while they obviously conferred with each other. Then, “How did you learn of Jalna?”
“From a small trading ship we captured some time ago.”
“What took you to Jalna? You have not been seen there before.”
“Our ship had been damaged in escaping from Keiss and needed repairs. We knew we could sell the four Sholans there for the supplies we needed. That’s where we saw and heard about the Cabbarans.”
“If they defeated you on Keiss, how were you able to take these Sholans?”
J’koshuk twitched. He’d been hoping they wouldn’t ask. “Our Commander of Forces called us to take part in a military mission.”
“Its nature?”
“I don’t know. I am only the priest, not included in bridge briefings unless summoned by the Captain.” He couldn’t stop his tongue from flicking out nervously.
From the neck down a tidal wave of pain washed through him, setting every nerve on fire, making his body twitch uncontrollably. It seemed to go on and on, then just as suddenly, it stopped.
He lay panting in the chair, barely able to open his eyes or think coherently.
“You lie.” The mechanical tones were devoid of inflection.
“I don’t,” he whimpered. “We followed orders, placed ourselves in a formation around the Sholan worlds. That’s all I know.”
A guard stepped forward, and taki
ng him by a handful of his robes, lifted him up and slammed him into the back of the chair.
“I don’t know!” J’koshuk said frantically, clawing at the armored glove. “All I know is that we destroyed every living thing on both worlds!”
The guard released him, letting him fall back to the seat.
“Where did the weapon come from?” he was asked after a moment or two of silence.
“I don’t know,” he said, gripping the arms of the chair, bracing himself for more pain. “It wasn’t on our craft. Only General M’ezozakk would know.”
“You did more than trade at Jalna. You left something behind. What was it?”
He looked from one to the other in shock, trying desperately to remember what they’d done there. How did the Primes know so much about them? “The Holy Object!” he said in a rush. “We sent it down to protect it from the authorities on M’zull in case they wouldn’t accept us back. We hoped one day to retrieve it.”
“Describe it.”
“A large cube. It hurt to look at it.” This was something he did know about and he could hear himself beginning to babble in his urgency to tell them about it before they turned on his collar again. “Light seemed to bend round it and it felt strange to the touch. It wasn’t heavy—moved easily, as if floating. It’s been worshipped in the General’s family for generations.”
Silence fell while they considered his answer.
“What is the location of this Human world?” he was asked at length.
He could taste the sudden rank smell of his fear strongly now. He clenched his hands tightly round the arms of the chair, claws indenting the semi-rigid surface. “It’s not my job. I’m only a priest who interrogates those the Church considers heretics. I’m not trained as a navigator.”
Again the silence. He’d never before experienced such terror. Though his body was shaking, another part of him was sitting back, analyzing what they were doing that was so effective.
“The food. Do you cope with it? It is nutritional for your kind.” The question shocked him with its incongruity.
Briefly he wondered whether to lie, then decided against it. “It hurts my stomach. I need freshly killed meat, eaten raw, not cooked.”
“There are settings that control the amount of heat applied to the food. You can choose one that barely cooks it.”
“But it isn’t raw!”
“Accustom yourself to it. There is no reason why you cannot. Your stomach is capable of processing it.” The reply was said almost before he’d finished talking.
“You have work to do shortly, using your particular skills. You will choose one of your crew to interrogate. The guards will aid you. Return to your quarters and clean yourself.” Both Primes turned away from him and began to walk away.
“Me?”
“You question our decision?”
He could almost hear the implication in the flat, inflectionless voice. “No,” he said hurriedly, getting out of the seat before they changed their minds. Why did they want him to question his fellow crew members? Then he supplied his own answer, because he obviously knew them better.
As the guards escorted him back to his rooms, he realized that to return him to his quarters like this, the Primes were capable of smelling his scents. So the suits were two-way, they concealed his abductors’ natures, not protected them. He put this to the back of his mind to consider later, when he had more such small facts.
* * *
Mara had only just collapsed into a chair at the long trestle table when she heard a footfall behind her. Smothering a sigh, she waited for the inevitable words. They didn’t come, instead the steps stopped and she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Greg standing over her.
“You did a good job explaining to Toueesut why he wasn’t invited to the Sholan funerals yesterday,” he said, passing her a cup of coffee. “Can I join you?”
“Sure,” she said, taking the mug from him. “How’d you know I wanted a coffee?”
He slid onto the seat opposite her, putting his own coffee on the table before handing her a sandwich. He leaned closer, almost whispering in her ear. “Dealing with our Touiban colleagues still gives me a headache. You’ve no idea how grateful everyone is that they’ve taken to you. Leaves me free to get on with our own work rather than mediating between our species. I’ve a proposition to put to you,” he said, sitting back and taking a sip of his drink. “I’ve been talking to Dzaka. We’ve a space on the team, and he says you’re free to take us up on any offer of employment we want to make. Are you interested in formalizing what you’ve been doing with us? And getting paid for it?” He grinned, looking at her over the top of his glasses.
Mara took a bite out of her sandwich, looking consideringly at him. In his mid-thirties, he was considered young for the position of team leader here at the monastery site, but any objections from the Earth delegation had been overridden by the Clan Lord as head of Alien Relations. The Humans had wanted Greg, the Sholans wanted him, and the Touibans were ecstatic to see the back of their previous team leader. End of discussion.
“I know you don’t need to worry about money, being a member of the En’Shalla Clan, but . . .” he began.
“Oh, it’s not that,” she said, interrupting him. “I like what I’m doing now. I don’t know if I’d want to be told where to go and what to do.”
He shook his head in a quick, negative gesture. “Nothing like that,” he reassured her hastily. “You’d carry on doing what you’re doing now. It just makes it, well, official. With your Leska Link to Josh, you know everything he does about archaeology—it’s like having two of him now.” He realized how she might interpret that and began to cover his tracks. “Not that I mean you don’t have your own flair and patience, you do, it’s just that . . .”
Mara grinned and reached out to touch his hand where it lay on the table. “It’s all right. I do know what you mean,” she said.
“Uh. I suppose you do, being a telepath,” he mumbled, running a hand through his thinning sandy hair to hide his embarrassment. “Well? Are you interested?” he returned doggedly to his original point.
She took another bite of her sandwich. “Master Konis wants me recruited to AlRel in the fall.”
“What about till then? You might be able to do both. You’d continue to get hands-on experience with our Touibans,” he wheedled, making his pale blue eyes wide and innocent. “At least think seriously about it. See what Josh says.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his humor. “Josh says I should accept, but . . .”
“Then it’s done,” he said, sitting back satisfied. “May I be the first to officially welcome you to the team?”
“It isn’t that easy!” she exclaimed, slightly rattled at being bulldozed into the position. Within her mind, she could feel Josh sending soothing and congratulatory thoughts. “You already asked Josh about this!” she said. “Has this been set up between the two of you?”
“Not at all,” said Greg, suddenly very much the professional. “You’re genuinely being offered a position on the team. The fact that if we don’t have you, then we have to accept whoever HQ sends has nothing to do with it. You were unanimously elected to the post.”
Conflicting emotions were running through her now. Some of the surprise and pleasure she’d felt had evaporated. Sandwich discarded on the table, she began to get to her feet when a familiar trilling and gentle scent wafted over her. She shut her eyes and groaned softly.
“Is trouble? We watch from farther away so no intruding into your business, but concern makes me need to approach.” The familiar fluting tones of the Touiban Speaker, Toueesut, sounded from behind her. “Happiness there should be at being part of this great digging and finding of ancient artifacts. Talent you have in plenty for the job, and ability to focus on what is important. You are the ideal Human for the position.”
“Everyone’s been consulted apart from me,” she said, letting herself fall back into her seat.
“I sai
d it was unanimous,” said Greg placidly.
“Who’s behind all this? Is it Vanna, suggesting it as therapeutic for me?” she demanded, not sure whether to be offended or not.
“Vanna has nothing to do with it. And we can’t afford to have someone working for us who isn’t pulling their own weight,” said Greg. “This site is still the most complete one on Shola, the most important. None of us would be here if HQ had any inkling exactly what is buried here. Only the fact it’s on En’Shalla territory has prevented all of us from being replaced. They’d love to get us winkled out of here and their top experts in—not just for the site, but because they’d be able to put some anthropologists and others in the team and spy on you all!”
“So you’re using me to keep the boogeyman away.”
Not true, sent Josh. The person who suggested it was Master Konis himself as soon as Garras showed him the request to send a new team member out here. Why look anywhere but among our own when we have you, and you have all my knowledge at your fingertips?
It’s not mine! It’s not for me, it’s for the estate! she replied.
“It is that we are bothering you too much, that we make too many demands on your person?” asked Toueesut, his bristly chin wriggling in concern as he fairly bounced around from foot to foot behind her.
In the distance, she could hear the distressed trilling of his swarm mates. As she turned, she saw them swirling round each other in an intricate dance.
“No, no,” she said placatingly, touching him on the sleeve of his brightly embroidered jacket. “It’s nothing you’ve done. You know I’m happy to help you at any time.”
“Then why you distress all with your confusion over accepting this position?” he asked, catching hold of her hands, beginning to almost massage them with his callused, leathery fingers.
She’d never gotten this close to one of the little people before and now that they were touching, she could feel his thoughts and emotions, was aware of how soft and fragile he felt she was. His hands held hers firmly yet they were never still, the thumbs rubbing over the back of her hands, the fingers doing dances of their own across her palms and digits. She marveled at how hands that had essentially evolved for supporting themselves against the ground and rocky outcrops in order to walk upright could be so flexible at manipulating almost microscopic electrical components. How could these beings be the comm tech experts of the Alliance?
Dark Nadir Page 20
