Between Darkness and Light (109 page)

“But you came to get the cubs,” she began.

“And we can't admit that!” he interrupted, stopping opposite her. Her scent was distracting him as usual, and without a second thought, he reached deep inside himself and damped its effect down to a bearable level.

“If they suspect for a moment that Shaidan is my son, they'll know he was artificially created and grown by the Directorate. If news of that gets out, then the treaty with the Primes goes up in smoke. I need time to work out how I can return safely, and I can't do it with my crew breathing down my neck every few minutes!”

She nodded. “It sounds like the best course. But Kezule's returned,” she said. “The
N'zishok
docked fifteen minutes ago. You can speak to Kezule yourself. This would probably be a good time because his mission to help the Ch'almuthians went extremely well.”

Something that Banner had said to him was niggling at the back of his mind. “Zayshul, could Kezule have been responsible for that female getting into my quarters? She didn't break in, so she must have had an access code.”

“Why would he do that?” she asked, turning back to her work

“To make you jealous, maybe to divert attention from you. I don't know, that's why I'm asking you.”

“I can't see him wanting to do either of those.”

He could feel her retreating mentally from him. She was hiding something. “What do you know?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she said, glancing up at him. “What makes you think I do?”

“Then you suspect something.”

“You're beginning to sound paranoid, Kusac,” she said, getting to her feet. “I was just finishing up here. Kezule wants me up on the hydroponics level. We'll talk later, when you're not so agitated.”

“You're avoiding the issue,” he said, following her out and into the sick bay.

“Shh!” she said, heading for the exit. “You'll draw attention to us. I'll see you later,” she said as a medic approached them with a box of supplies.

Zayshul gestured to her without stopping. “In the first treatment room, please.”

The medic nodded and hurried past them.

Stopping, he turned to look at the medic as she went past him. There was something about her ... Looking back, he saw Zayshul had already gone. Annoyed that she'd left their conversation so abruptly, he resumed walking toward the exit, trying to work out what it was about her that had caught his interest. It wasn't so much that
she
was familiar, but her scent was.

On an impulse, he began to follow her. Standing in the doorway of the treatment room, he watched as she unpacked the box.

“Can I help you, Captain?” she asked, glancing at him.

He could smell her apprehension, and beneath it a touch of fear-scent. “No,” he said. “You seem familiar. Have we met?”

“I'm sure I would have remembered it if we had,” she smiled, continuing to unload the contents into the cupboard by the treatment bed.

“You're one of the Ch'almuthians, aren't you?” he said, stepping into the room. Why was she afraid of him? He moved closer.

“Yes. I'm not usually on this level, though. I work down on the Command level, in the sick bay there.”

Grasping her arm, he pulled her closer. “It's you, the female from the shop. I know your scent,” he growled as the realization of who she was dawned on him. “You've a scar on your arm,” he said, pushing her sleeve up. “Just here.”

Her fear-scent flooded the room as he exposed the tiny scar on her upper arm.

“Let me go, Captain,” she said, trying to wrench her arm away from him.

“Why did you drug me and come to my room?” he demanded, grabbing her with his other hand as well. “I want to know!”

“I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go immediately or I'll call for help!” She was panicking and struggling to get free of him now.

“Don't lie to me,” he snarled, all the anger he'd felt with Banner and Zayshul was now directed at her as his hair began to bush out. “Rape is a criminal offense! General Kezule said he'd prosecute you if I found you, so I want to know why you did it! Was it for your own selfish reasons, or did someone put you up to it?”

“You've made a mistake,” she said, stopping her struggles and trying to speak calmly as she realized he was too strong for her to break free. “Got me mixed up with someone else. Sholans can't smell our scents properly.”

“How did I know about your scar?” he demanded, flexing his claws so they began to prick her flesh. “And I can smell Prime scents since I got marked by one! Your name, tell me your name!”

Her eyes dilated and she began to stammer. “Liyak. It wasn't me ... I ... didn't ... I've never met you!”

He pulled her closer, till his snarling face was inches from hers. “Try again!” His rumble of anger had become a low growl that was rising in pitch.

“He said you'd never know ... said I was doing you a favor by turning her scent marker off with mine! I meant no harm, please don't bite me!” she wailed, eyes filling with tears of terror.

“Who said? Who told you to do it?” he roared.

“M'kou! Please ... please don't hurt me!”

Shocked and stunned by her answer, he let her go and turned away. M'kou? Why would M'kou do something like that to him? It was totally out of character. He needed to think. Ignoring her, he walked out of the treatment room as the medic on duty, running to see what was happening, skidded to a stop in the corridor and cowered against the wall as he went past.

His wrist comm was buzzing but he barely heard it as he wandered blindly down one corridor, then another. When he finally came to his senses he was outside his quarters. Punching in the code, he went in and headed for the dispenser to get coffee—strong coffee.

He needed to think, he had to think this through. It was inconceivable that M'kou would do something like this. He was almost a classic by-the-book person, following his orders to the letter—or was he? Taking his drink, he perched on one of the high stools at the meal bar and spooned in the whitener and sweetener, stirring it carefully, making almost a ritual of the simple, familiar tasks.

M'kou appeared to be by-the-book, but he wasn't. There was that time he'd warned him that Banner intended to ask for Shaidan to go to other members of his crew rather than him—there had been no reason for the warning except to help him. There had been other times, too, now he came to think of it, so what would make M'kou set up something like this? Had the young Lieutenant really believed he was acting in his and Doctor Zayshul's interests, or had he done it at Kezule's request?

This was what Zayshul had been hiding! The anger began to return as he remembered how anxious she'd been to reach Kezule—to warn him, no doubt! Whether or not Kezule had ordered M'kou to do it, all three of them knew about it and had been involved either in setting it up, or preventing him from finding out who the female was!

He'd been cynically used and manipulated once again by them, including Zayshul! It hurt, Gods, but it hurt more than he wanted to admit that she'd kept the truth from him, that she'd betrayed him again, but it would be for the last time. He drained his mug, slamming it down on the counter with such force that it smashed, and got to his feet.

Banner was right, he'd been both a fool and manipulated. No Valtegans, be they Primes or Ch' almuthians, could ever be trusted. They were leaving now, and Shaidan was going with them. Their Gods help anyone who stood in his way this time, whether here or on Shola. The damned treaty with the Primes needed to be exposed for the sham it was.

He checked his wrist comm: Shaidan would be up on the hydroponics level with the TeLaxaudin now, and so were Kezule and the rest of his crew.

Cold rage flooded through him as he headed for the bathing room and began unpacking the components of the la'quo gun.

Shamgar was standing looking out of the reinforced window into the barrack's exercise yard when they heard distant footsteps marching along the corridor.

“Sounds like they finally learned how to march in step,” he said.

“Wonder who they're coming for,” said Vaygan lazily from where he was reclining on his simple one-piece metal cot. “Us, or them.”

“Ask them,” said Shamgar.

Reaching out behind him, Vaygan banged on the wall. “Hey, Khay, they coming for you today?”

“No, not that we know of,” said Khayikule from the other side of the wall.

“How's Cheelar? He had any treatment yet?”

“Doesn't need it. He's gone into laalgo—a deep healing trance.”

“Handy. It's a biofeedback thing?”

“A fair translation,” agreed the Prime. “We go into a deep trance then trigger internal organs that help us to heal very quickly. It requires larger amounts of food, though, as we burn up stored fats to do it. And, of course, we're extremely vulnerable during that time.”

Suddenly there were two loud raps on the wall.

“The guards are coming down here,” said Vaygan quietly to the Ambassador. “Remember what we told you, Fingoh. If they question you, tell them everything they ask, and try not to show fear.”

The Ambassador nodded, ears flattening out of sight.

“He'll do fine,” said Shamgar reassuringly, turning to watch the cell door. “You know, Fingoh, you'll be able to dine out for years on the strength of the stories of what you've experienced here.”

“At least they gave us our tunics back,” said Shamgar, brushing imagined dust specks off the stains on it.

“How do you do it?” Fingoh asked, his voice taut with fear. “How can you make jokes at times like this?”

Aware of the footsteps nearing, Shamgar came over to the Ambassador and crouched down on his haunches in front of him. “It's how we cope,” he said quietly. “If you laugh, it doesn't let the fear take hold. It's there, Fingoh, but we control it, it doesn't control us.”

He stood up as they heard their door being unlocked. “Vartra preserve us,” he muttered as they caught their first sight of their captors.

A head taller than them, and bulking about half as much again, these were the largest Primes they'd ever seen. Unfastened black jackets, probably at least a couple of sizes too small, trimmed with enough gold braid to decorate a room for the winter festival, were worn over ordinary faded trousers. The attempt at a uniform would have been amusing except for the head perched above it on a neck as thick as Shamgar's thigh.

The forehead and scalp had been tattooed with the lurid image of a decapitated head, blood running from the severed neck and empty eye sockets, the lips pulled back from the needle sharp teeth in an obvious scream of agony.

“Face the wall,” the Prime ordered in a deep and gravelly voice, his rifle aimed at them as he and a companion came into the room.

Shamgar helped Fingoh to his feet and led him over to join Vaygan.

“Hands behind your back,” snapped the other.

Metal restraints were put on their wrists, then they were herded out into the corridor where two other guards waited.

In silence, they left the prison block and entered a narrow, dimly lit corridor. This part of the City belonged to the Palace staff as it served the barracks, kitchens, and other utility areas never seen by the Royal Court, but as soon as they entered the public area and the pillared portico, that changed. Exquisitely painted bas-relief carvings of a procession of people bearing elaborate gifts covered the walls on both sides, though they had little chance to take them in as they were hurried through the room to the staircase opposite.

At the top of the stairs, another corridor with similar scenes led them to the wider main one. This they knew led to the Great Hall and throne room.

“Smells better than it did last time,” Shamgar muttered to Vaygan only to receive a blow from the butt of a rifle in the small of his back.

“Silence!”

He staggered and had to be caught by the guard as he fell.

The Great Hall, and the throne room beyond it, were brightly illuminated giving the impression of one huge room. Clustered beyond the pillars they could see the Courtiers. Beyond them, the Throne of Light itself glittered and shone in the glow from the reflected lights.

When they reached the pillars, Shamgar's arm was again grasped by the guard beside him. Aware of their presence, the Courtiers fell back, gradually opening a path for them that led to the throne. Fear was palpable on their faces and in the air.

His attention focused on the identity of the male sitting in the throne, Shamgar was taken by surprise when he heard a sharp intake of breath from Vaygan, and a cry of horror from Fingoh. Then he saw what lay at the feet of the new Emperor.