Between Darkness and Light (10 page)

M'kou stood aside, letting him see his son again. Seemingly unconcerned by the drama being played out around him, Shaidan raised his head.

Kusac stared at him, taking in every detail of his son's appearance. It was like coming face-to-face with a younger version of himself, and he prayed none of his crew noticed the resemblance. Shaidan's ears were set low, just like his own, only they were a little wider. His face still had the roundness of childhood, but already the high cheekbones were beginning to show. Above them, the amber eyes looked disinterestedly through, not at him, as if he didn't exist.

He felt light-headed, heard the blood pounding in his ears. How could Shaidan not realize that his father stood before him? If he could feel the pull of blood calling to blood, surely his son could?

“Undress yourself,” Kezule ordered, letting the child go.

Obediently Shaidan began to unfasten his wraparound tunic.

“No,” Kusac said sharply. “There's no need to humiliate him like this.”

“On the contrary, I want you and your crew to be sure he's not been mistreated. Turn round, Shaidan,” Kezule said, taking the tunic. “Let the Captain see you have no injuries.”

Beneath the robe, Shaidan's short pelt was smooth with a hint of dark brown under the dense black guard hairs. The long hair that reached well below the cub's shoulders was more blue than black, just as his own was.

He noticed details he'd been too shocked to take in at their first meeting, like the shorter and slightly thinner tail, and the shape of his son's legs—they were straighter, like his daughter's. He sucked in a breath—they were the telltale physical signs of a hybrid.

“No questions to ask him, Kusac?” said Kezule, his tone faintly mocking as Shaidan finished turning round, his head dropping once more to look at the floor.

He heard the Valtegan's words but paid them little attention. The other cubs had been hybrids. Was it possible that Shaidan wasn't half Valtegan? Was this some elaborate hoax of Kezule's? He remembered Kaid saying the Primes conditioned their half M'zullian warriors by using synthesized Sholan scents. Had Shaidan been given a false scent? There was only one way to be sure, by touching his son and taking in his scent properly—flesh to flesh messages couldn't lie.

Moving closer, he crouched down on his haunches so their heads were level.

“I heard you were hurt when you were taken from the medical facility,” Kusac said quietly. “What happened, Shaidan?”

When Shaidan remained silent, Kezule put his hand back on the cub's shoulder and shook him gently. “Answer the Captain.”

“A guard was shot. He shot me then fell on me,” Shaidan said in halting Sholan, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor at his feet. “I am healed now.”

Heart beating, Kusac reached out and took hold of him by the arm, his other hand gently feeling over his son's ribs. Fear rushed through him as Shaidan's scent suddenly filled his nostrils, banishing any illusions he'd had about him being half Human. Underlying his son's Sholan scent was Zayshul's.

Hard on its heels came the pull of their shared blood. Shaidan started and raised his head, their eyes meeting briefly before the cub hurriedly looked back down at the ground. Elation filled him, bringing back the light-headedness: Shaidan had recognized the connection between them.

The desire to sweep his son into his arms and hold him close filled him, but he knew he had to content himself with examining Shaidan's side. His sensitive fingertips hesitated on a small hairless patch and a tiny scar over his ribs on the right side.

“His lung was punctured,” said Kezule. “My wife had to insert a drain there. Likely his ribs are still a little tender.”

Kusac nodded and reluctantly let Shaidan go. “Thank you for saving him,” he said, though the words stuck in his throat. “Are they treating you well?” he asked Shaidan, not knowing what else to say, just needing to hear his son's voice again.

“I have value to the General,” Shaidan said in flawless Valtegan. “He treats me well. I am a vassal of the Prime Empire and my duty is to serve it by serving him.”

“Who told you that?” Kusac glared up at Kezule, his vision narrowing sharply into huntersight as the blood once more pounded in his ears. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl of rage as he instinctively tensed, ready to leap to his feet. “What have you done to him, Kezule?” From behind, he was barely aware of the echoing rumbles of anger from his crew.

Before he could move, clawed hands closed firmly on his shoulders, forcing him down onto his knees and holding him there. Pain flared briefly from the torc, shocking him back to normality, making him aware of the sounds of angry voices and scuffling from behind.

“Hold fast!” he called out to his crew, submitting with an effort to the pressure on his shoulders and remaining still, knowing that the situation had suddenly become explosive. Everything depended on him keeping his head.

He waited patiently until all was silent again, his eyes never leaving General Kezule.

“I've done nothing to him,” said the General with a slight smile. “Blame the Directorate, Kusac. Why would I give you back five children and harm only this one?”

Zayshul stood up abruptly, pulling Shaidan toward her and snatching the cub's robe from Kezule's hand. “Enough!” she hissed angrily. “Have done with this, Kezule! You've made your point! The Directorate programmed them to think they were slaves, Kusac. Kezule hasn't harmed any of them, I give you my word.” With that, she pushed her way past Kusac and her husband, hustling Shaidan from the room.

Kezule said nothing, merely turned to watch her as she left. “You'll have to excuse my wife,” he said, looking back at Kusac. “She recently gave birth and I'm sure you know how very emotional that makes females.”

Another wave of light-headedness passed through him and the room began to darken and sway. He had his answer, and the truth was inescapable this time. Zayshul
was
the mother of his son.

“You can let the Captain and his crew go now, M'kou,” Kezule added as an afterthought.

Without M'kou's steadying hand, Kusac wouldn't have made it to his feet. As soon as he was upright, he pulled himself free.

“I suggest we discuss the details of your training program now,” said Kezule. “Take the Captain to the briefing room, M'kou, I'll be along shortly. I have something to attend to first. Your crew are welcome to stay here with mine or return to their quarters, Captain Aldatan.”

“We'll go back,” said Banner, his voice strained. “I think we've all had enough for the first day.”

“As you wish,” said Kezule, turning to leave. “You're free to change your minds, of course. You're not prisoners here.”

 

Still shaking, Zayshul stopped between the two air locks that led to their quarters and helped Shaidan into his robe. She knew now why the Sholan Captain thought she'd been the one who'd gone to his bed that night on the
Kz'adul
. Her scent mark, bound to Kusac's own, was there for everyone to smell! Chy'qui must have ordered N'koshoh to do it, and somehow provided the damned female with a sample of
her
scent, time-locked so it couldn't be sensed until Kusac was back on his own world. N'koshoh hadn't just been killed to keep her silent, she'd been killed so that Kusac would do exactly what he had done—blame her, Zayshul, for raping him! It had been Chy'qui's revenge against her for foiling his plans to keep Kusac.

Suddenly remembering that Shaidan wasn't wearing his telepathic damper collar, she pushed thoughts of Chy'qui and Kusac aside and took hold of his hand. Punching the access code into the security lock, she waited impatiently for it to begin to open. When the iris had expanded enough to let her step through, she did.

The suite had originally been the Outpost Commander's, but in Kezule's time, females were feral and kept under heavy security in breeding chambers. A great many modifications had been made to make the rooms suitable for them. The small open dining area, immediately inside the entrance, had been sectioned off to form a bedroom for Shaidan. The central recreation area had become her bedroom and the nursery, with Kezule's own bedroom and office beyond them.

The guard outside the suite, one of Kezule's own sons, nodded to her as she opened the door and ushered the cub inside. Automatically she went to the nursery bedroom where her egg lay in its incubator. After the intensity of the last few hours, she needed to reassure herself all was well with it at least.

Only another week now, she thought, checking the egg for any signs of cracks. A presence intruded on her thoughts and startled, she turned round to see Shaidan had followed her.

“Why didn't you go into the lounge?” she asked, looking down at him, wishing he could show some independent will of his own.

“You didn't tell me to, Seniormost,” he said quietly, blinking up at her.

She sighed. “We're alone here, Shaidan. You know I prefer you to call me Aunt.”

“Yes, Aunt,” he said dutifully.

Taking him by the shoulder, she shooed him from the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, heading through the main formal dining room to what was now a small family kitchen with a table for four. “A snack before bed would be good.” She pressed the touch pads on the food dispenser for a plate of egg-flavored protein followed by a drink of kheffa. “Go and sit at the table. I'll bring it over to you.”

 

“Do you know who our visitors are?” she asked him as he shoveled the food hungrily into his mouth.

“Yes, Aunt,” he mumbled round it.

“Shaidan, I've told you before, I want you to speak freely with me. Tell me more than just what I ask you. Make some conversation with me.”

He looked up, amber eyes narrowing slightly. Once more she felt the gentle touch of his mind, felt his need to be reassured that she meant what she'd said. “They're Sholans, Aunt.”

“They're your people. Did my husband tell you who Kusac is?”

Confused, he stopped eating to look at her.

“Captain Aldatan,” she prompted.

“The General said he's my father.” His attention shifted to his cup as he picked it up in both hands and took a large drink.

“Aren't you pleased to meet him?”

“I don't know him, Aunt,” he said, putting the cup back down to grab his fork again.

“Do you understand what a father is?”

“No.”

“He sired you, was one of two people who gave you life. They're called parents.”

“I was given life by the Prime Empire. I was bred to serve it,” he said automatically, his attention still on his food.

“There's a connection between you and him, Shaidan. One of blood. He cares for you, that's why he's here. If it hadn't been for the Directorate, you would live with him and his wife, be brought up in their home, not with us,” she persevered. How could he have any concept of what a father was when he'd never known either his parents or a family? “When my child hatches, it will live with us, grow up in our home.”

“She'll be your vassal?” He put his fork down on the empty plate and looked up at her again. “Your egg is too small to hold a vassal like me. I'm of more value to the General.”

By the God-Kings! He thought their child would be a vassal! She opened her mouth to explain, then remembered she couldn't because she'd given her word to Kezule. Then she realized what else he'd said. “She?”

“It's a female,” he said. “Like Gaylla.”

“You can tell?” she asked, surprised at his sensitivity.

He nodded. “You know she is too. I can feel her if I'm in the nursery.”

With difficulty, she pulled her thoughts back to what they'd been talking about before. “You have value because you are Shaidan, not because you're a vassal. No one person can replace another, child. The person you have most value to is Captain Aldatan, because he's your father.”

He nodded, smothering a yawn. “May I sleep now, Aunt?”

“Yes,” she sighed, abandoning the conversation, aware that his lack of knowledge meant she'd get no further tonight. “When you're with the Captain, speak your own language, Shaidan. I know you've been taught it, I loaded the sleep tape myself,” she said, getting to her feet.

She followed him through the dining room to his bedroom door, picking his collar up from the long dining table as they went. The child was obviously tired, he could shower in the morning.

His room was small, containing only a bed, a chest of drawers, and a chair. She'd tried to make it more like a child's room by adding a few toys, despite Kezule's disapproval, but they lay in the chair untouched. The Directorate's programming had gone too deep for her to be able to touch any normal childlike qualities in him.

Taking off his tunic and handing it to her, Shaidan waited for her to fasten the collar round his neck before clambering into his bed.

Leaning forward she gave him a gentle hug. “Good night, Shaidan.”

“Good night, Aunt,” he yawned, sliding down under the covers and closing his eyes.

As she put out the light and closed his door, she made up her mind to have words with Kezule about using the tape on Prime social customs on Shaidan. They might know very little about Sholan families, but Shaidan could learn about theirs. If he agreed, she could load it tonight.

Heading for their bedroom, she began rehearsing the arguments in her mind. It kept her from thinking about Kusac and how the scent marker—her scent marker!—had changed his own scent. She'd suspected it when he'd come for the cubs, but sitting next to him at dinner, she'd known it for sure. Even Kezule's daughter had noticed and been affected by it. It marked him apart as a good lover, a potential mate, and was a signal no female could ignore, herself especially.