Between Darkness and Light (65 page)

“A dry planet,” he observed.

“We prefer such worlds,” said Kezule, resting his elbow on the command chair arm and his chin on his hand. “Any airborne vehicles?”

“A few low-level ones,” confirmed Kushool.

“Picking up communications now, General,” said Zhalmo. “The vehicles are being advised of our arrival and ordered to land immediately.”

“Signals originating from an area corresponding to coordinates for the spaceport,” he said, tracking them on his monitor.

“Any response yet?” asked Kezule.

“None.”

“Appears to be a communications blackout,” said Zhalmo a few minutes later.

“I'd say they've been visited before, and not peacefully,” he ventured.

“I have to agree,” said Kezule, watching Ch'almuth grow larger in the screen. “At least we're not being attacked yet.”

“Do they have that capability any more?”

“Not from what I've been picking up,” said Zhalmo from beside him.

“We'll find out soon enough,” said Kezule, keeping one eye on his monitors, the other on the view screen. “Stay alert.”

 

The spaceport, as they approached it, looked deserted, the buildings surrounding it a strange mix of neglected and ruined. As the
N'zishok
settled slowly to the ground, they saw a small group of people emerging from what would have been the control building.

“Picking up thirty life-forms in all,” said Kushool from her sensors post. “Only six leaving the building.”

“Reading no weapons, but I am getting several blank spots in buildings around the port perimeter,” said Noolgoi.

“Zhalmo, take over gunnery, M'zynal, I want you with us,” said Kezule, getting up. “You, too, Kusac, and bring Lieutenant Banner. Zaykkuh, keep the ship running ready to leave.”

Leaving the comms earpiece behind, he got up and followed Kezule off the bridge to the elevator opposite, calling Banner on his wrist comm. On Deck One, where the landing party was gathering, there were only a few people waiting for them—D'haalmu, Chiozo, Shezhul, and Banner. M'zynal went over to a locker and, unlocking it, pulled out side arms which he began distributing.

He was bringing Banner up to date when he sensed the Security chief trying to get his attention.

“Captain,” M'zynal said, holding out two pistols. “For you and the Lieutenant.”

He raised an eye ridge as he accepted one. “Trusting us with weapons?”

“Stunners. You know how to use them?”

He nodded as Banner inspected the one given to him. “You can change the settings to kill.”

M'zynal gave him a long look. “General's orders, but he doesn't believe lethal force is appropriate here.”

“Let's hope he's right,” said Banner, slipping the pistol into the empty holster on his belt.

When he put his own there, he found it a shade too small for a good fit, but it was acceptable.

Shartoh was handing out small ear and throat pieces. “Communicators,” he said. “Put the microphone on the neck of your robe so it touches your throat, Captain. I hope the earpieces are comfortable. Our ears are quite a bit smaller.”

“They'll do,” he said, positioning it carefully.

When they were all ready, Kezule led the way to the starboard elevator down to the landing bay. Once there, they gathered by the landing ramp. Beyond the faint blue glow of the force field, the small group of Ch'almuthians seemed to shimmer in the distance.

“No fighters,” Kusac sent to Banner, using hand signals.

“Lower the field and the ramp, Zhalmo,” Kezule ordered.

“Aye, General,” he heard her say through the earpiece.

The field down, the searing heat of Ch'almuth hit them, almost taking their breath away.

Banner glanced at him. “So I was wrong about the fighters. You'll cook in those black woolen robes,” he said quietly, hand blocking the throat mike.

“A robe for you would have been a good idea,” he murmured, watching the Primes and Kezule form a small group in front of them. “The less alien we appear to them, the better.”

Banner grunted. “Let's just hope they aren't like the M'zullians.”

As they followed Kezule's group down the ramp, they began to be able to identify individuals among the approaching Ch'almuthians.

“This place hasn't been used in years,” said Banner in an undertone, hand again blocking the mike so his voice didn't broadcast. “Have you seen how much grass is growing in those cracks?”

“I have.” He was more concerned with what thirty people were doing out in the middle of nowhere at a derelict spaceport. He lowered his mental shields, passively absorbing what he could from the strangers.

When they were twenty feet away from the ship, Kezule gave the order to stop.

The sun was still high in the sky, and standing on the dark surface with no shade, the fierce heat was beginning to get to him. Without thinking, he began to slow his heart rate by a fraction and lower his body temperature.

“They're unarmed, General, as far as I can tell,” said Noolgoi's voice in his ear.

As the group drew closer, he began to notice details, like they all were male, and all had pallid, almost Valtegan-colored skins. The clothing they wore—embroidered or patterned loose-sleeved tops over trousers—was not that of people living rough, or even what he'd expect of peasants from the surrounding villages they'd flown over. Another anomaly to add to the others.

They stopped a few feet away, one stepping forward a little. This close, he could see other, more subtle details, like their lack of crests, and their build—all were more bulky than the Primes, with more variety in their features and body shapes. One was even stout. And though they had all registered his and Banner's presence, there had been no reaction to them.

“My name is Nishon. How may we help you?” said the lead male.

“We know you received our message. I'm Kezule shan Q'em-go'h, from K'oish'ik. Our mission is peaceful. We wish to open friendly communications with you and your sovereign world.”

As he spoke, Kusac noticed the glances the other five Ch'almuthians exchanged between themselves. He nodded to himself, pleased Kezule had remembered his briefing on the importance of letting the Ch'almuthians know they considered them as equals, not still part of a long lost Empire.

“I see you know my name,” Kezule continued smoothly.

“I know your family name,” said Nishon cautiously, trying not to stare at Kezule. “To us, K'oish'ik is a legend, so is the name of its Emperor.”

“Once Emperor of your world,” said Kezule. “But my family no longer rules. It died out in the Fall of the Empire.”

“We're peaceful here, an agricultural world. What do you and your alien companions want of us?” asked one of the others, his tone slightly belligerent as he came forward.

“Trade,” said Kezule. “We've come to make trade negotiations with you.”

“Trade?” said the second male incredulously.

“They're afraid, Kezule,” he said subvocalizing into the mike. “And hiding something.”

“Yes, trade,” Kezule confirmed. “If you don't wish to trade with us, we'll leave peacefully. We're not here to take anything from you by force.”

“And what can you possibly offer us in return?” demanded the belligerent one.

“What currency do you use?” asked Shezhul. “Is it still the old Imperial one?”

“Yes,” said Nishon, turning to look at her.

“Then we can pay, or if you prefer, we can offer our services by providing medical aid, or by repairing any electronic or mechanical equipment you have.”

This time, Nishon turned to look at the others briefly.

“We have no need of . . .” began the one beside him.

“Be silent, Shaalgo,” said Nishon sharply. “The decision isn't ours to make,” he said apologetically. “I will have to send your request to the Elders of our community. Perhaps if you tell me what kind of goods you are in need of, I can tell you if we can provide them.”

“We have a list,” said Shezhul. “It includes medicinal plants that were once grown here, cloth, soap, common items like that.”

“How long will it take to contact your Elders?” asked Kezule.

“An hour or so,” said Nishon. He hesitated a moment. “Perhaps we could offer you our hospitality while you wait? We have cold drinks, and some light food if you are hungry.”

“Are you out of your mind?” demanded Shaalgo.

Nishon grasped him by the arm and dragged him back a few paces.

Kusac had to strain his ears, as well as his other senses, to hear what they were saying.

“Be silent! I recognize the aliens! If they're with him, then we have nothing to fear!” said Nishon.

“How so?”

“They were once slaves of the Empire!”

Shaalgo snorted. “And still are, likely. I don't have the benefit of your racial memories, so why should I trust them? Their leader looks like one of them!”

“He's different—he has a female with him! The Elders have the same memories as I do,” said Nishon sharply. “They will decide. Meanwhile, I need to know if these aliens are friends or servants.”

“I serve no one,” he said, stepping forward into plain view and startling everyone. Banner hurriedly joined him.

“I work with Kezule and am here voluntarily, as are others of my people.”

Nishon came closer, studying them both openly. “Your kind were rare here. There was one, at the Overlord's Palace, but she died in the civil war. Sholans, that's your species name.”

He nodded, widening his mouth in a smile that showed his teeth slightly, and held out his hand, palm uppermost. “Yes, Sholans. I'm Captain Aldatan.”

Nishon cautiously held his out, touching Kusac's fingers just before they were withdrawn.

“Captain?”

“I have my own ship. My crew is with me.” He gestured toward Banner. “My Second, Lieutenant Banner.”

Banner nodded and held his hand out in greeting.

“We'll accept your offer of hospitality,” Kusac said.

“We'll all stay,” said Kezule hurriedly, not to be outdone. Nishon gestured to the buildings behind them. “You're welcome. You'll find our facilities are a little austere, though.”

“No more than ours, I'm sure,” said Kezule as they began to walk away from the
N'zishok
.

“We notice your ship is a military one.”

“Not all the Valtegan people are friendly,” Kusac said before Kezule could reply.

“You've had trouble from some of us?” asked Nishon.

“Not us,” said Kezule. “The Sholans have.”

“We met the Primes because of them and now our people share treaties,” said Kusac.

“Primes,” said Nishon thoughtfully. “First ones, from the home world. It makes sense,” he nodded.

Kusac turned to look over his shoulder, using the opportunity to subvocalize to Kezule. “Don't ask them what they're doing here yet. Keep the conversation light.” He fell back a little, letting Kezule talk to their host.

As the building grew closer, they could see it wasn't as neglected as it had first looked. Though the paint was dry and peeling, door hinges and locks were well oiled and free of rust.

“More here than meets the eye,” Banner's voice whispered in his ear.

He flicked his ears in assent and using the Brotherhood hand signals, advised him to be cautious.

Nishon and his companions led the way inside. They found themselves in a vast, almost empty warehouse, that had obviously once served the spaceport. The temperature inside wasn't much cooler, despite several large fans high up in the ceiling, but it was a relief to be out of the direct glare of the sun. At the far end, people were bringing in bales and boxes of goods.

“Our villages work together,” said Nishon, leading them deeper into the building. “Each one specializes in different crops and we share our produce between us. We store it here because it's central and easily distributed.” He turned round to indicate an interior structure ahead. “Our offices are over here.”

“I count eighteen workers,” murmured Banner in their ears. “Plus this six makes twenty-four.”

“Why do you need a currency if you share your goods?” asked Kezule.

“Luxury items we do sell,” said Shaalgo. “The basics everyone must have.”

“Very egalitarian,” remarked Kezule, clasping his hands behind his back as he followed them into the office.

Three tables, two covered in papers, the third, larger one had three people sitting at it. Kusac almost stumbled at the doorway as soon as he smelled their scents. One of them was female, the first they'd encountered here, and she was pregnant.

Shaalgo shot him an angry look. “No doubt you disapprove.”

“On the contrary, our females are as free as we are,” said the General. “My daughter Shezhul is with me.”

“Keeshu, fetch our guests some cold drinks,” said Nishon to one of those at the table. “He'll look after you while I send someone to the Elders.”

As Nishon left the room through another door, the remaining two at the table stood up.

“Please, sit down and join us. I'm Shikoh, Nishon's wife.”

In his best courtly manner, Kezule advanced on her and took her hand, bowing over it. “Charmed to meet you,” he said. “Unfortunately my wife and youngest daughter had to remain at home.”

“You're married?” she said, sending a sidelong look at Shaalgo which Kusac caught as Kezule sat down beside her.