Between Darkness and Light (112 page)

Kezule had enough presence of mind left to punch him hard on the side of the jaw and stagger back, then one of the guards was hauling on Kusac's arm, trying to free him from the claws, and the other was between him and the Sholan, shielding him with his body.

“Trank him,” said Banner urgently.

Freed, Kezule, aware of the blood running down his back, retreated to a safe distance and stared at Banner. More snarls and growling drew his eyes back to Kusac who was once again struggling. He looked like he'd break free at any minute.

“You can't handle him, no one can!” said Banner. “He's kzushu—in a blood rage. Trank him. In my belt pack.”

“Q'almo, do it,” he ordered. “Then get him down to the brig.” Kezule was shaken to the core at his brush with death. He pulled his pistol and thrust it at Q'almo. “Use this if you have to.”

Cautiously the Prime approached Banner, keeping the pistol trained on him.

“There's been enough bloodshed,” said Banner tiredly. “Use the hypo on his neck. It won't knock him out, but he'll be so doped up you can handle him. Khadui! Jayza! Report back!” he yelled, raising his voice.

“I'm glad to see one of you has remained in control,” said Kezule as he watched Kusac suddenly go limp in the grasp of the four Primes who'd been struggling to contain him.

“What do you expect?” Banner snapped back. “You've been using his son against him all this time, your wife's seduced him, and you sent someone to rape him! Dammit, the wonder is he didn't snap before now!”

“Enough!” hissed Kezule, crest rising. He didn't need to be reminded of his own part in causing this.

“He needs treatment,” said Banner more calmly. “Your people shot first.”

“I know, and believe me, he'll be punished!”

“I've been told the guard's dead, General,” said Q'almo, returning to slip the empty hypo back into Banner's pouch.

“What? How?” demanded Kezule.

Q'almo shook his head. “He was bleeding heavily from the nose, mouth, and ears, that's all I can tell you. Face looked like he'd had a seizure.”

Aware of Banner stiffening, he rounded on him, first gesturing Q'almo to leave. “How was he killed?”

Banner shook his head. “I don't know.”

Kezule remembered the way his mind had been assaulted just as Kusac had hit him the first time, and the glazed look that had come over the Sholan's face as at the last possible minute before killing him, he'd stopped.

“Burn it!” he swore, stamping his foot on the ground and swinging away from Banner in anger. “Bring my wife over!” he called out then rounded on Banner again. “He's a mind reader again, isn't he? He's gotten his abilities back, damn it!”

“Not to my knowledge,” said Banner as Zayshul was escorted over.

Kezule rounded on her. “He's a telepath, isn't he? And he's been teaching you. Why the hell didn't you tell me?”

“If he hadn't taught me, I couldn't have saved your life,” she retorted, pulling free of her guard. His crest began to lower. “You killed the guard?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes flicking briefly to Banner. “Be thankful I did. What idiot gave him a live gun?”

“I intend to find out,” he said as Khadui, and Jayza, still carrying Shaidan, were escorted up to them.

“Take Shaidan back down to the Command level, Zayshul,” he said, noticing the glazed look on the tear-stained face of the child.

“I need to treat his father,” she said angrily. “He'll be going into shock with a wound like that! He needs fluids, surgery to remove the dead tissue ...”

“He brought it on himself,” interrupted Kezule coldly, taking Shaidan from Jayza and thrusting him at her. “He'll get no treatment till I say so! See to the child and my son, that's all you need to worry about.”

“If he's not treated, Kezule, he could lose his leg, if not his life,” she said, becoming distraught as she tried to hold onto Shaidan, who had suddenly come to life again and was demanding to see his father. “You can't do that to him, especially when he's morally in the right!”

“You're upsetting Shaidan,” he said, gesturing to the guard who'd brought her over. “Take them back to the Command level, see Shaidan settled in our quarters with Shishu, then escort my wife to the Officers level to operate on my son.”

M'zynal arrived then, with a unit of six armed guards.

“In the brig, strip-search them and scan them for weapons, the same with their quarters,” Kezule ordered. “Then return them to their quarters and search this level, the Officers', and any rooms their Captain used on Command. He had a gun. They'll have more weapons hidden somewhere.”

“Aye, General. The Sholan Dzaou's already there, and I left orders to process Captain Aldatan when he arrived. Their ship, too?” asked M'zynal.

Kezule nodded. He was beginning to feel decidedly light-headed now.

“May I suggest you go for medical treatment now, General?” said the Security chief as his men took charge of the Sholans.

Reaction was setting in and his shoulder was stiffening up. “I will. Do we have security tapes on this level?” he asked, starting to walk back to the gate.

“I believe so. I'll get it checked out when we're done and let you know. Relax, General, the situation's contained now.”

“Watch Kusac every minute,” he said tiredly. “Take no chances with him. No one goes into his cell alone, no matter the circumstances. No live weapons, only stunners without the capacity to kill.” He looked at his son. “He was as strong and as fast as me, M'zynal, that's just not possible.”

“I'll brief Security accordingly, General.”

“One more thing. The psi damper collars we took off the cubs—the ones locked in your office—put one on the Captain and set it to maximum strength. Make sure the Duty Officer always wears a control bracelet and have the other one brought to me.”

“Yes, General.”

As soon as the trank hit him, Kusac sagged against his guards, all the fight suddenly evaporating out of him. Unable to stand, his limbs feeling like dead weights apart from the fiery pain that still burned down his left side, he was manhandled across the field to the emergency door in the covered walkway. A short ride in the elevator, then he was dragged out into the brig.

Through the fog in his mind, he recognized the guards who took over as more of Kezule's commandos. A chair was brought and they tried to get him to sit. When he yowled in pain, they stopped to examine his wound.

As he clutched the one holding him up, he knew they were talking but the words weren't clear. He fought to concentrate, pushing back the mists as they carefully stripped him of his clothing.

“I'm putting a pressure dressing on those wounds,” he heard a voice he knew say.

“He's to have no treatment,” objected another.

A string of expletives that made even him blink followed. “Kusac, hold still. It'll hurt but I need to put a dressing on your wounds.”

He peered at the figure kneeling before him. Female from the coloring. His nose told him nothing as all he could smell was the stench of his own singed fur and burned flesh. His heart begin to race and he felt suddenly cold and clammy. The nausea he'd been feeling began to increase, but his mind was clearing as his system fought back against the trank.

“Zhalmo,” he said.

She looked up and nodded. “Hold him still,” she said as she tore open the dressing pack.

He was shivering but could feel sweat running down his back. Looking down, he wished he hadn't when he saw the swollen and charred hole on the top of his thigh. Feeling faint, he looked quickly away.

She pressed gently against his inner thigh, holding the outer edge of the dressing there with one hand as she wrapped it round the entry point to the other side to cover the exit wound. Even that slight touch was too much as he clutched the wooden chair and tried to bite back a low moan of pain.

He heard a loud snap as the chair back broke, then hands grasped him as he began to fall, but the pain continued as she swiftly bound the dressing in place.

“Carry him into his cell and put him on the bed,” she ordered. “We'll finish the search there.”

He swam in and out of consciousness until they finished, then she was helping him sit up and holding a bowl of water to his lips.

“Drink, Kusac,” she said as he put a shaking hand up to catch hold of it. “You're losing body fluids. You need to replace them. Drink as much as you can, do you hear me?”

“I hear,” he said, suddenly aware just how thirsty he was despite the nausea.

The door closed behind her, leaving him alone. He let the empty bowl fall from his hands to the bed beside him. He felt sick from more than the effects of the wound—he'd failed, and now any prospect of leaving here with his son was gone, probably for good. His vision began to fade and he slumped back on the bed, unconscious.

Ghidd'ah was finishing off dressing Kezule's shoulder in the treatment room when Zayshul entered, still wearing her surgical clothes.

“How is he?” he asked, looking up at her.

She sat down on the chair by her monitor. “There was no bullet in him,” she said. “As far as I can tell, it was designed to dissolve inside the wound.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kusac wasn't using a straightforward weapon,” she said. “It was a drug delivery system.”

“Has he been poisoned?” Kezule demanded, starting to rise out of the chair.

“General!” exclaimed Ghidd'ah. “Please, sit still!”

“No, not a poison, exactly,” said Zayshul. “What it did do was knock him out, now it's systematically targeting and destroying the Warrior glands that give him the extra speed and strength and allow him to heal faster.”

“This drug is killing him!”

“No, he's in no danger, Kezule,” she said hurriedly, seeing him about to pull away from Ghidd'ah again. “He's becoming the same as us Primes, that's all. Still a Warrior, but without the extra physical advantages of your caste.”

“Then stop it!” he demanded. “That's enough,” he snapped, turning on Ghidd'ah and reaching past her to grab the clean shirt that had been brought for him.

“I can't,” she said. “The drug's in his system, there's nothing I can do. It's very clever, actually, because it does no other damage. As for his arm, there's no permanent harm. The bone was chipped slightly as the pellet hit it, but I've taken the pieces out. He'll need a sling for about a week, then he'll be fine.”

“He won't be fine,” hissed Kezule angrily, standing up and pulling his shirt on, wincing as he moved his injured shoulder and the stitches in the deep holes and slashes caused by Kusac's claws pulled. “He's been crippled as a Warrior!”

“He's alive and physically whole apart from that, and so are you,” she snapped back. “And you have both been treated! I have to see to Kusac, Kezule. If you leave him untreated, he really could die.”

“She's right, General,” said Ghidd'ah as she cleared up.

“You need him alive,” said Zayshul.

“Not any longer,” he said coldly, buttoning his shirt and stuffing it into the waistband of his trousers.

“Ghidd'ah, would you excuse us?” asked Zayshul.

“If you let him die,” she said when they were alone, “you'll have to kill them all because they won't rest until they've been revenged, and that includes Shaidan. You have no idea of how deep their family ties go.”

“He tried to kill me, Zayshul! Where's your sympathy for me?” he demanded. “Or are you that besotted with him? I know what happened while I was away!”