Between Darkness and Light (9 page)

“See the screen?” he heard Dzaou say quietly to Khadui. “I noticed one in every room we saw, and in all the public areas. They certainly liked to keep an eye on everyone!”

But it was Banner who voiced what was in both their minds.

“Kusac, was it me or was the first scout ship of Kezule's somewhat old-fashioned by comparison, just like here?” his Second asked quietly as a couple of Prime stewards went back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, obviously preparing it for the evening meal.

“It was old,” he agreed, keeping his voice equally low and turning his back on the other three crew members. “A recovered vessel left over from the Fall. Just as this is an outpost from their old Empire, part of the network Haven and our other three bases once belonged to.”

“What else have you discovered?” Banner asked, giving him a long look.

“There's a TeLaxaudin here,” he replied, aware that he was risking revealing what Banner had already guessed about his returning Talent. “I can smell him.”
And no dampers anywhere,
he thought to himself.

“Can you find out any more?” Banner asked after a small silence.

“Prime minds are almost as closed as those of the Valtegans we met on Keiss, but they're just as capable of noticing me, Banner, were I able to read them. Kezule specified I bring no telepaths with me because he hates them. Our best chance for information is Doctor Zayshul. Your job is to continue keeping a watch on Dzaou,” he said. “His xenophobia and paranoia worry me.”

“I will, and I've had a word with him. He's not stupid, Kusac, not when a cub's life is at stake.”

“He'd better not be. I'll kill him before I'll let him endanger that kitling.” He had to fight to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Why does Kezule really want you here, Kusac?” his Second asked after a moment or two.

“That's my concern,” he said shortly. “We play it the way Kezule wants for now.”

“Isn't this something of a turnaround for you?”

“You said it yourself, Banner. There's a life at stake here,” he replied, turning away. “A young Sholan life.” If he said it often enough, he might be able to forget the other half of Shaidan's parentage.

The door into the lounge hissed quietly open and Kezule, followed by Doctor Zayshul and a younger male entered.

“Welcome to Kij'ik, Captain Aldatan,” Kezule said in almost perfect Sholan. “This is my aide, M'kou, and I believe you've all met my wife, Zayshul. I trust your accommodations here are acceptable?”

“Very comfortable, for a prison,” he said, trying not to stare past Kezule at the Doctor. He'd only ever seen her in a uniform and it came as something of a shock to see her wearing a long, elegant dress of some soft silvery gray material. Even as he realized he was staring at her, he pulled his attention back to the General and the other Prime officers who were now joining them.

Kezule's eye ridges raised slightly. “Hardly a prison,” he said. “Do introduce me to your crew.”

“Banner, my Second,” he said shortly, trying to ignore the barrage of scents he could now smell as he indicated the only other black-pelted male present. “Khadui, my comms officer.”

The older male inclined his gray head. “General,” he murmured.

“Jayza, my engineering officer, and Dzaou, weapons.”

Jayza, his greeting barely audible, flicked his ears back into his brown hair, moving unconsciously closer to Khadui. Dzaou said nothing but the tan-colored hair and fur around his head and shoulders began to rise in a display of aggression.

Banner was at his side instantly, rumbling his own anger. “We're here to do a job, Brother Dzaou,” he said quietly in the Highland language of Stronghold, hand closing on the offender's shoulder. “Keep your personal feelings to yourself.”

Kezule raised a brow curiously at Kusac. “He should be beyond the impetuosity of youth at his age,” he murmured.

Kusac shot him a startled look.

“I've made it my business to study your species since we last met. Keep him in line, Kusac. Discipline on Kij'ik is military, and everyone is subject to it, with no exceptions.”

“I'll discipline my own people if I need to, Kezule.”

“I said no exceptions. Those are my rules. If you don't like them, you're free to leave,” said Kezule with deceptive mildness, turning away from him as he took his wife by the arm. “I'll have the
N'zishok
return you to the rendezvous any time you want. Now enough of this. Let's go through to the dining room.”

Fuming, Kusac followed him into the dining room, heading for the far end of the table. He wanted to be as far away from Kezule—and Zayshul—as possible. The General knew damned well he couldn't walk out and leave his son behind.

“No,” said Kezule, taking his seat at the head, Zayshul on his right. “Sit beside us, Kusac. Next to my wife.”

He hesitated, catching the Doctor's eyes briefly for the first time. There was a slightly haunted look in them. She wanted his company as little as he wanted hers. Walking slowly back along the length of the table, he reluctantly took the seat beside her.

“Where's the cub, Kezule?” he asked abruptly. “Before I agree to cooperate, I insist on examining him and making sure he's well and unharmed.”

“I don't abuse children in any way Kusac,” said Kezule, a hiss of anger in his voice. “On Shola, I had your daughter in my grasp and did nothing to her, remember that! As for the cub, you'll do me the courtesy of leaving business until after we've eaten.”

His anger flared again, but he forced it back. As Kezule's unwilling guest he had no option but to accept his host's decision.

 

Surprisingly, two of Kezule's officers were female and one, Zhalmo, was seated immediately to Kusac's left. Surrounded by the scents of Zhalmo and the Doctor, he found it difficult to keep his mind on the light conversation in which Kezule was determined to engage him. It confused the hell out of him to find himself drawn to them both. The food was good, but he had little appetite to enjoy it. Offered wine, he refused it, sticking to the jug of water nearby. His senses were disturbed enough by the closeness of the two females without alcohol.

At first, even his enhanced sense of smell couldn't tell the two females' scents apart. The difference, when he found it, was subtle, one he couldn't put his finger on, but he knew it was there. At the far end of the table, where the other female officer sat, he could see that Banner and the rest were coping well. Thankfully, Dzaou was confining himself to growled, monosyllabic answers.

Eventually, the interminable meal was over and they rose to follow the General back out into the small lounge. When Zayshul stood up and turned round, he found himself staring at her exposed back. The dappled iridescent patterns on her skin fascinated him, and he found the desire to reach out and touch them overwhelming.

Zayshul swung round in confusion, bumping into him and almost losing her balance. Instinctively, he grabbed hold of her waist, steadying her. Realizing he was touching bare flesh, he let go of her as if stung.

“Apologies,” he murmured automatically as she spun away from him with a smothered exclamation of shock.

As he watched her push her way through the other young officers into the lounge, he stood there trying to make sense of the signals he'd picked up from her. For one brief moment, she'd leaned into his touch, almost welcoming it. Suddenly aware of being watched, he turned round. As he did, Zhalmo moved forward and took hold of his arm. Beyond her, he could see M'kou regarding him thoughtfully.

“You knew the General's wife on the
Kz'adul,
didn't you?” she said, deftly turning him back toward the door and drawing him with her into the lounge. “I heard about your dreadful experiences. Nothing like that could have happened on a military ship.”

He made a polite sound, his attention divided between concern for Zayshul, and M'kou's continued interest in him.

“I hadn't realized how soft your body covering is,” said Zhalmo, her hand stroking the exposed area of his wrist.

“Pelt,” he said absently, looking around the knots of males for Zayshul as they came to a stop near the center of the room. Her scent was still strong in the air but he couldn't see her.

He was barely aware of Zhalmo removing her hand, but when he felt her touch his neck, she had his undivided attention. Grasping her wrist, he pulled her hand away.

“Never touch a Sholan there,” he said, ears flattening in embarrassment. “It's taboo, forbidden—unless you're a family member or a lover.”

“Or a doctor,” said Zhalmo, looking past him as she freed her hand from his.

He froze, the sound of low male laughter making him turn round. In front of him, the young Primes had parted, leaving him facing Kezule, and Zayshul.

“It seems our females find you attractive, Kusac,” said Kezule, mouth widening in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Think yourself lucky. You'll not lack for company during your stay with us.”

The General stood beside the sofa on which Zayshul, her face a pale green unmoving mask, was sitting. The patches of iridescent color round her eyes looked livid by comparison.

“For us, touching a female's lower back, not her neck, is an act of intimacy,” Kezule continued, resting his hand on his wife's neck. “I find the differences between our people interesting. As I'm sure my wife does.” The look on the General's face was Challenging in any species.

Kezule knew about him and Zayshul! He fought to keep his ears upright, thanking Vartra that at least the instinctive flicking of his tail was concealed within his robe. Between Zayshul and the cub, Kezule had him trapped like a jegget in a snare—and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

“Where's the cub?” he heard Dzaou demand in the silence that followed. “Our Captain said you'd get no cooperation from us until we saw him.”

“Ah, the cub,” said Kezule. “Thank you for reminding me. Dzaou, isn't it? M'kou, bring Shaidan in, if you please. He's waiting in the corridor. You'll be pleased to know, Kusac, that he's been quite an asset to my staff.”

Heart racing, Kusac watched M'kou go to the doorway and gesture to someone outside. There was a faint scuffing sound, as of someone getting to their feet, then his son appeared.

Looking neither to left nor right, Shaidan walked across the room to the General. Dressed in a white tunic, amid the uniformed Primes, he appeared even younger and more vulnerable than before.

Aware of his crew gathering behind him, Kusac glanced at Zayshul. Ever since they'd touched, his need to know more about her relationship to his son had been growing. Flesh to flesh contact carried potent messages and he'd sensed her deep concern for him and the cub. But her face betrayed nothing, and she refused to meet his eyes. Was Shaidan her son too? How had the Directorate gotten hold of him? Despite the risk, while everyone was watching Shaidan, gently he reached for her mind. Instantly, his torc began to vibrate warningly before suddenly blocking all but his passive abilities.

Shaidan's reaction as he stopped beside Kezule was immediate—his head raised fractionally, ears widening and swiveling toward his father.

Kusac's heart missed a beat as he saw that the metal psychic damper collar round his son's neck was missing. If it hadn't been for the torc's intervention . . .

Kezule's hand went from Zayshul's neck to the cub's shoulder. “What is it?” the Valtegan demanded, bending down to the child's level. “Did you sense something?”

“No, General,” Shaidan said quietly after a moment's hesitation. “It was a stray thought, nothing more.”

Zayshul closed her eyes briefly, the knuckles on her hands whitening as she clenched them in her lap.

Vartra's bones! His son was a fully awakened telepath and Kezule was using him to read them! He tried to suppress his automatic snarl of rage but failed and it came out strangled.

Kezule glanced at him but appeared to be satisfied with Shaidan's answer. “Tell your people to sit down, Kusac,” he said, straightening up. “I won't have the child intimidated by them. You may speak to him, but no one else.”

“Do it,” Kusac said, half turning to Banner.

“
You
won't have him intimidated?” echoed Dzaou, stepping impulsively forward. “Then why do you keep him . . . ?”

Kusac immediately backhanded Dzaou, sending him reeling into the others. “Contain him, Banner,” he ordered, not bothering to look round. There was a muffled curse from Dzaou, followed by the sound of his crew moving back.

In the ensuing silence, Kezule stepped away from the sofa, propelling the cub with him toward Kusac.

“You remember Captain Aldatan,” Kezule said to Shaidan. “He'll be with us for the next few months.”

All his passive senses working overtime, Kusac took a step forward, reaching out to touch his son, but M'kou stepped between them, barring his way.

“Sorry, Captain. He's a telepath. The touch of strangers distresses him.”

His snarl of fury couldn't be contained this time. “I know more about Sholan telepaths than you,” he said, unable to stop his hair from rising. “My touch won't disturb him!”

Kezule watched him, a faintly amused expression on his face.

Still snarling softly, he took a step backward. Too much was at stake for his anger to lose him the chance of speaking to his son. With an effort, he slowed his breathing and forced his hair to settle down around his shoulders.

“It's all right, M'kou,” said Kezule, his voice relaxed, almost lazy. “Kusac needs to examine the child to be sure he's being well treated. Lift your head, Shaidan.”